


The Star in the SKY

by StarlingHawke (Bowm8935)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon?, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It's certainly not this, M/M, Mentioned Murder, What's canon, drug use is mentioned, first person POV, shouldn't be any real spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/StarlingHawke
Summary: Yoosung Kim goes to SKY University with his best friend, Seven. When Seven starts to lock himself up in his apartment without any explanation, Yoosung is concerned but gives up pretty quickly on trying to figure out what's going on.One day he's faced with the reason for the sudden seclusion in a place he least expects it: school.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honest to God have no idea where this is heading. So. There's that. It originated from a prompt on tumblr and I've kinda been rolling with it. I will update tags as I go along.
> 
> FYI, I post to there first. I will update a chapter over here whenever I post a new one over there. To give an idea, today I released chapter 3 on tumblr so I'm posting chapter 1 here. So if you want to get updates ASAP, I recommend following me or at least checking in on me occasionally over there. I do not have an update schedule as I can never adhere to one so.... apologies.

I first met my best friend and my boyfriend when I was 12 years old. Not that I knew it at the time, but there they both were, following my cousin Rika’s boyfriend into her house, matching sets of red hair and golden eyes staring at me. They were identical and I was in awe; I’d never seen twins in real life before that moment. The only physical feature that distinguished one from the other was the set of round glasses one wore, but their personalities were another matter. The one with glasses had a wide grin on his face and was nearly vibrating with excitement while his brother stood behind both him and V, watching me with an expression I didn’t understand at the time. I definitely did _not_ hide behind her legs at the intrusion, and I certainly didn’t stutter when one of them spoke to me.

Let me back up a bit. My name is Yoosung Kim and I’m a 22-year-old college student at SKY University. My major is veterinary medicine, although I’ve lost a lot of my drive to complete my classes. In fact, the only reason I reliably come to school anymore is because of Seven driving to my house and dragging me there. I’m not sure why he’s so insistent since it’s not like he goes to many of his own, but every morning he’s at my place without fail. Well, he was, but recently his life has changed in a way that’s causing him to become even more reclusive than normal, which is not a good thing. I had hoped the days of me forcing him out of his apartment were long gone, but apparently not. He won’t even let me in to speak with him right now, something I find incredibly irritating since the only other way is to learn Arabic to get past the completely unnecessary lock he has on his door.

Honestly, what 23-year-old does that? Puts a password-coded lock in a different language on the door to their apartment on the 12th floor? My best friend, that’s who. Whatever.

He’s always been strange, though. I knew that from the moment I met him. He grabbed hold of his brother’s hand, running up to me without any hesitation to introduce himself.

“Hi! I’m Luciel! This is my brother, Saeran. He doesn’t talk much, so don’t worry if he doesn’t really respond to you, that’s normal. What’s your name?” He spoke at an incredibly fast pace and didn’t seem to mind when his voice cracked a bit, his eyes eagerly watching me as he waited for an answer.

Rika stepped away from me, revealing me completely to them when I didn’t really want to be. I’ve always been on the shy side until I feel comfortable with someone, and randomly having two new kids thrust at me certainly wasn’t my idea of fun. I fidgeted a little before finally willing up the courage to answer. “I’m Yoosung,” I said quietly, waving my hand weakly. I wasn’t sure what else to say, but lucky for me, I didn’t have to come up with anything.

He pounced almost immediately, giving me a quick hug before jumping back with a huge smile. “It’s nice to meet you! Let’s go and do something fun.” Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the smile changed into something mischievous that I had no idea how to react to. I was always the good kid when I was little, dutifully focusing on school and whatever else my parents told me to. My only real break from this came when Rika would babysit me; she would make sure I did whatever homework absolutely needed to be done, but she never forced me to sit and study for hours like I had to at home. I used these breaks to read some of the fantasy stories I’d unearthed at the school library, delving into a world that enraptured me to my core.

“F-fun?” I stuttered, returning his smile with uneasiness. “L-like what?” I had a sudden foreboding feeling at what this could mean; something about Seven’s presence, even back then, had thrown me off-kilter because I couldn’t predict what would come next.

In typical Seven fashion, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me along after him without answering, Saeran following behind sullenly. When we were seated comfortably on the couch, he pulled out something I’d only seen at a distance before: a gameboy.

And that’s about when my gaming addiction was born.

After that point, we saw each other regularly whenever Rika would babysit me. Her and V hadn’t been dating all that long so they grabbed the chance to be together as often as possible. I didn’t mind; I quickly grew close to Seven. Although at the time I called him by the name he had introduced himself as… Luciel. We became nearly inseparable, and I loved getting to play that gameboy when we hung out. Eventually Saeran stopped coming, but at the time I didn’t particularly care. He never really joined in on the fun, and usually only sat alone as far away from me as possible, quiet and shooting me hostile looks. Not having to worry about his presence and moodiness actually made me feel rather relieved; now, I just look back and realize it was jealousy. I don’t know much about the twins’ past before they started living with V, but it sounds as though it was literally them against the world. And then in I come, the outsider who all but steals his brother from him - even though that was hardly the case, I’m sure it felt like that.

We didn’t go to the same school because we lived in different districts. Seoul is a large city, after all, and V grew up in a very wealthy area. Once high school came around and Rika was no longer in charge of me when my parents were busy, it became harder to hang out, but we still managed. If he was free, V generally had no problem giving Seven a ride over to my place. It was around that time that he started to go by the alias 707, saying that it made him sound like a cool secret agent. I just laughed and went along with it, because why not? His weird and quirky sense of humor was one of the big reasons that I enjoyed hanging out with him so much. We talked about what we wanted to do with ourselves in the future and what college we wanted to go to. We even went so far as to make a stupid pact to get into the same university - something we actually managed to hold ourselves to. For a while, things seemed to be going fine in our busy lives.

But sometime mid-high school Saeran started to make friends with people who were headed down a bad road. I only heard bits and pieces from Seven when we’d talk, but it never sounded good. I know that he graduated with high marks (although Seven seemed oddly evasive about the _how_ in that) but didn’t make it much long after before taking a turn for the worse. He ended up getting into a pretty dangerous gang and doing all sorts of drugs. There were rumors of a white-haired boy with mint eyes who was particularly deadly, a description disturbingly familiar to Seven’s description of his brother’s new look. I don’t know the specifics because again, Seven is very evasive about a lot of things to do with his family, but somehow Saeran ended up arrested and then sent to rehab. That was a relief, for both of us; Seven always felt guilty about his brother’s bad choices (and to be truthful, I blamed myself a bit too) and I was happy to see the weight lifted off my friend’s shoulders.

It was around the time that Saeran joined the gang that Rika disappeared. No word, no goodbye, nothing, just _gone._ I tracked down V a few times to try to find out if he knew anything, but all he gave me was a lot of non-answers and empty apologies. To this day, I still feel like he knows something about her but refuses to tell me. I used to respect him; now, not so much.

Fast-forward to today, where I’m still lying in bed at noon, having chosen not to go to my morning classes. I stayed up way too late raging on LOLOL last night knowing full well that Seven wouldn’t be coming to force my butt to school, and had then slept in without a care in the world. I honestly feel a little guilty about it, but what’s done is done. School hasn’t even been in session for a full month yet and here I am, skiving off already. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Checking the clock, I see that I still have time to take a shower before I have to get ready to leave for the afternoon round. Fair enough. I definitely shouldn’t skip these as well, even though I desperately want to.

So I get up and drag myself into the hot water of the shower, still tired even though I’m fairly certain I slept more than enough to operate at least better than a zombie. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Wash the hair. Brush the teeth. Yep, I’m guilty of doing that in the shower sometimes.

It doesn’t take long for me to finish and dry off, making sure to put my patented hair clip in and grab a bagel on the way out to the bus stop. Normally I cook my breakfast, but I just don’t feel like it today. Today feels… different. I’m not sure why, honestly, although my phone chirping at me might be a hint.

_Seven [13:02] Hey, sorry I’ve been MIA lately. Should be good now. I’ll see u tomorrow morning?_

I climb on the bus when it arrives and sit down on the first available seat, smiling at my phone. It’s nearing a month since I last saw him properly, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I type back a reply quickly letting him know that I’m counting on it before pocketing my phone, leaning back against the rough seat and munching my bagel. I watch as the scenery of the city flies by, wondering what we’d talk about today in my psychology course. A lot of people in my year took the class as freshman, wanting to get it out of the way, but not me. Nope. No idea why, but I just… didn’t. Which is okay, honestly; part of the reason I have been able to make sure I at least make it to my afternoon classes is because I find it genuinely interesting. The human mind is so… complex, and interesting. Also confusing. I mean, look at Seven; We’ve been friends for 11 years and he still manages to baffle me.

The ride passes uneventfully and I get out at the stop near campus, trudging along the sidewalks toward the building my class is in. I pass a few of my friends and wave at them in greeting, smiling when they shout jokingly at me. Everyone always likes to tease me, and I guess I leave myself open to it a lot. It can get on my nerves sometimes, but for the most part I don’t mind. I’m used to it by now.

The class is held in one of the bigger rooms on campus since it’s generally very large, and by the time I get there it’s nearly full. Everyone is buzzing with excitement and anticipation, and a quick glance at the whiteboard at the front reminds me why: today is the day we find out who our partner for the first paper is. The semester is split into three major papers and a final; the first paper is done with a partner, proposing and then following a simple experiment to learn about the human mind. The second is done by yourself, and the third is unknown; the professor says she likes to switch that one up every semester, so I guess we’ll see when it’s time.

The assignments for our partner is done randomly, so we won’t have any say in who we get. I can see this as both a good and bad thing; good because I don’t have any friends in this class yet, so I don’t have to stress out about picking someone, but bad because I literally have no say. I could get a slacker, or someone who doesn’t care. Or I could get the take-charge person who doesn’t give me any choice in the matter. Who knows?

The class goes by fairly quickly, focusing on memory and short term vs. long term, etc. It isn’t until the last fifteen minutes that the professor finally brings up the assignments, telling us all to log into our school email accounts, as we should have received a list detailing who is paired with who. As soon as we know, we are to spend the last few minutes of class meeting them and exchanging whatever info is needed to contact each other. Sure enough, when I open it, one among the many unopened (oops) emails is from her, and I select it apprehensively. There’s an attachment and I click on it, bringing up the list and scrolling down until I find my name. Sucking in a breath, I bring my finger to the screen and drag it over to see the name listed next to mine. My eyes widen and I feel shock rushing through me at what I read, staring at it utterly dumbstruck. I’m not really sure how long I stay like that, but it’s long enough for him to find me.

The chair next to me screeches in protest as it’s dragged across the floor, and I gulp before turning to look up at an eerily familiar face. His eyes meet mine but he looks away quickly as he sits, folding his hands in his lap in a pose I haven’t seen for many years. “Hi, Yoosung,” he says quietly, still not looking up at me even as I continue to gaze at him, my mind reeling from the unexpected meeting.

“Saeran,” I breathe, one hand coming up to push some of my blond hair out of my eyes. “It’s been a while.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s hard to believe that he’s right here, in front of my eyes. It’s been so long since I last saw him; sometime in middle school, probably, and it’s eerie how he’s sitting in the same position that I remember him adapting often back then. His head is tilted just the slightest bit down, red hair falling to partially cover his eyes that are currently averted from me, staring off to the side at the floor or maybe even the desk - I can’t be sure. Shoulders slumped in a way that says that he’s trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable, he has his hands placed in his lap meekly and his body is completely still. This is so… different from the Saeran that Seven had described to me post-high school. I didn’t even know he was back.

“S-so,” I say, trying to focus on the reason he’s sitting in front of me. It feels like the shock is fogging up my brain, making it hard for me to think straight. “Um… a-are you uh, staying somewhere in town?” Wow. The first time I see him in years, and _that’s_ what I choose to ask? Not a “hey, how are you doing?” or anything normal. God, it’s no wonder I don’t have a girlfriend. 

He fidgets a little, not looking up with his thumbs pressing against each other before he answers. “Yeah. I’m at my brother’s apartment right now.” Oh. Right. Probably should’ve guessed that… 

That’s when it clicks for me. Seven’s mysterious impromptu absence, his inability to do anything outside of his home and his refusal to let me visit - it was all because of Saeran’s return. I furrow my eyebrows in thought, wracking my brain for anything he might have said that hinted at the bombshell that had been dropped in front of me - but I come up empty. Not that it’s impossible that I missed something or anything; I am a bit oblivious at times. 

But this. This is kind of a big deal. Why didn’t he tell me that Saeran had been released from rehab? I mean, I know I’m not literal family or anything but I am his _best friend_ , and best friends help each other out, right? If he had said that’s why he needed some time, I would’ve backed off. Or, if he needed help, I’d’ve been there in a second, school or not.

Oh… though, maybe that’s why? He didn’t want me missing more classes? I shake my head slightly, rubbing the center of my forehead in confusion; I should know better than to try to reason out what Seven’s thinking by now. It’s impossible to know what’s going on inside his head at the best of times, let alone when something as major as this happens.

“If you’re not comfortable with having me as a partner, I’m sure we can explain our extenuating circumstances to the professor.” Saeran’s voice snaps me out of my mind and I look at him in confusion, wondering where he came up with that idea. Sure, it’s a little odd, perhaps even jarring to be paired up with him, but it’s nothing I can’t work with. 

But he’s looking at me now, and yes, his eyes are that weird light blue-green color that matches what Seven had described as ‘mint.’ There’s a myriad of emotion in there, but the frown on his face as he gazes at me is what tips me off to the fact that I am the reason he thinks I’m uncomfortable with this pairing. Darn it, I always seem to mess things up, and I don’t even know what I did.

I shake my head quickly, forcing a cheerful smile onto my face. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect - er, w-well, I didn’t know you were taking classes here! What are the odds we’d end up in the same course?” Laughing nervously, I pull out a piece of paper from my folder, quickly scribbling down my phone number and email. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s watching me, distrust etched into the lines of his face. A bit taken aback by that (what did I do to earn that look?) I hand him the paper, quickly shoving my books back into my bag after he hesitantly takes it. “Um. If you wanna text or email me or whatever, there’s the info. Why don’t we both brainstorm for ideas and then we can figure something out?”

The paper is held in both of his hands as he looks down at it, that same frown still in place. I wait for a moment to see if he’s going to respond, but when he doesn’t, I glance at the clock, knowing I need to get moving if I want to make it to my next class on time. “Well, it was good seeing you again! Um, talk to you later?” 

And with that, I’m bolting out of the room, casting only a quick look over my shoulder to see that he still hasn’t moved. Deciding to worry about it later, I push it to the back of my mind and focus on winding my way through the throngs of people making their way to their destinations.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get ready for school, Yoosung!

I wake up to pounding on my door and a familiar voice calling my name. I open one groggy eye and groan audibly when I realize where I am; I fell asleep on the keyboard again. Shit. With both hands, I push myself up, cringing at the sounds the keys make as they unstick themselves from my cheek and pop back in place. Sure enough, there's a message on the computer screen saying I was logged out in front of the LOLOL login page, further proof of how I spent my night - if waking up on the keyboard wasn't enough.

Another shout followed by more abuse of my door forces me to get up and stumble across the living room to unlock it, stepping back just in time to avoid getting hit in the face when Seven slams it open. He takes one look at me and bursts out laughing, doubling over and slapping his knee as his voice echoes down the hallway. Heat is rushing to my face in embarrassment and I grab his arm, forcefully pulling him inside and shutting the door. I don't bother to say anything to the flailing redhead as I make my way to the bathroom, realizing this means that I don't have long to get ready.

I'm in the middle of brushing my teeth when he joins me, reaching out and pinching my cheek like an aunt does to their niece or nephew after not seeing them for a long time.

“Awww, widdle Yoosung looks so cute after waking up on his keyboard,” he teases, laughing when I bat his hand away in annoyance. “Did the sirens of LOLOL-land keep you up late into the night again?” I feel hands tugging at my flattened hair and I roll my eyes, leaning over the sink to spit out toothpaste.

“What makes you think that,” I grumble, not really asking because I _know_ it's obvious; I can see the indents from the keys and how one side of my hair is normal while the other is a mixture of spiked and flat. Seven knows me like the back of his hand too, so even if those two signs weren't there he'd probably figure it out. I'm just not awake enough for his teasing yet.

A finger pokes my cheek, tracing the lines left there from last night and I sigh, dropping my toothbrush back into its holder. “That’s a secret~” he hums, pinching my cheek once more and flashing me a cheeky grin in the mirror. Moving behind me, he lays his hands on my shoulders and starts rubbing them, thumbs digging deep into my muscles. I have my hairbrush in my hand and am about to start brushing, but instead I end up placing both palms on the countertop and leaning forward, encouraging him to continue. It feels so good that I can't help the small moan I give, wishing I could take it back immediately when I see his eyes peek out from behind my head. Raising his eyebrows, he makes kissy faces at me via the mirror and I watch my face fill with color, shrugging him off of me more aggressively than normal. We’re both fairly handsy people, so it’s not uncommon for us to hug a lot or do little things like shoulder massages for one another, but I’m just _not_ in the mood right now. Especially not if he’s gonna tease me about it.

“Hmm.” I pull my brush through my hair, wincing as it catches on a few strands. I had planned to call him when I got home last night but had ended up talking to my mom instead, assuring her that yes, I’m doing my homework (I wasn’t) and yes, my house is clean (it’s not). I felt so frustrated after the phone call that I made myself some food and planned to play a couple of rounds of LOLOL to calm down. Obviously, that didn’t quite work out.

I had wanted to ask him about Saeran. I have so many questions, not the least one being why he didn’t just _tell_ me that was why he basically dropped off the face of the planet. I suppose now is as good of a time as any, right? He’s here, live and in person and not able to just run away if he doesn’t want to answer.

Tugging against the stubborn hair that is still trying to stay sticking straight up, I narrow my eyes at him in the mirror. “Speaking of secrets… why didn’t you tell me Saeran was back?” I am answered with silence and a blank look on his face. No witty comebacks, no jokes, just silence. An unusual response, but not one I haven’t seen before. He’ll answer, he’s just actually thinking it through for once.

When he does speak, it’s slow and deliberate and purposefully casual. He shrugs his shoulders and glances away, one hand thumbing his nose before he puts his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d care? It’s not like you two were close or anything.”

I know he doesn’t mean it to hurt me, but the words feel like a spear to my heart. _No, do NOT cry, Yoosung,_ I chide myself even as I feel the familiar urge rising. I hate that I cry so much and that all it takes is a small insult that wasn’t even meant as one to set it off; I keep trying to learn better ways to combat it or to toughen up, but nothing seems to work. Ugh. But now is not the time to cry.

I clear my throat and drop the brush, letting it clatter noisily on the counter as I turn to face him. “Of _course_ I’d care, Seven,” I say, hating how thick my voice sounds. He tenses slightly and I know he _knows_ , and the fact that he knows almost makes it worse than if I were actually crying. “He’s your brother and important to you. You’re important to _me_. I care.”

There. In his eyes, there’s a trace of emotion; what is it? It looks like relief, or maybe sadness? I’m not sure and before I can figure it out it’s gone and his mask is back on. Not the cheerful Seven one he likes to wear that he thinks fools everyone (not me) but the one that he wears during serious moments when he’s trying to play cool. I’m always part jealous and part frustrated when he does this; I wish I could hide my emotions so well but why can’t he just let me in? We’re friends, after all. Have been for a decade now. Shouldn’t that count for something?

“Besides,” I continue, reaching out to open a drawer and pulling out some clips, sliding them into my hair without bothering to look. “It’s not like it was me who kept his distance when we were kids. That was all him; I would’ve gladly been his friend if he’d let me.”

“I know.” There’s sincerity on his face now as he looks at me and he smiles, though it is a sad one. “I wish you had been his friend instead of mine. Maybe then…” He stares off to the side of me for a moment in contemplation - and I think I know what he’s considering - before flicking his eyes back to mine. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I also didn’t know you’d run into him on his first day at school.”

I snort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, that was a bit of a shock. I feel horrible about that, by the way.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and frowns at me. “Why?” Hmm. Maybe Saeran didn’t tell him all that much about our meeting.

Taking a deep breath, I rub my forehead in exasperation. “I was so surprised to see him that I kind of just… quit responding? Like, I think I retreated into my head from the shock and was busy thinking about all the implications and he took my silence as me not wanting to partner with him. I tried to reassure him that wasn’t the case but I don’t think he believed me. And I have no way to convince him of that. So… I’ve got the guilt bug.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m sure he’s forgotten about it by now.”

I need to get new clothes, so I start to walk out of the bathroom but stop right before the door. “Hey Seven? That wasn’t the _only_ reason you didn’t tell me, right?” I can’t help but feel like he’s hiding something, holding it back. The fact that I’m aware of this probably means that it won’t take much to get him to spill, although whether or not I _actually_ want to hear what he has to say is another matter entirely.

I hear him as he shifts slightly and I just wait, knowing that he’s about to say something. I can feel it. My patience is rewarded by the sound of him taking a large breath and then he proceeds.

“...no. I… You have this white knight complex, Yoosung.” I turn around to face him, brows dipped as I look at him. I don’t understand what he’s saying and he knows it, as he taps the side of his glasses for a moment. “Anytime there’s something wrong in anyone’s life, you immediately run in trying to fix it. It’s really sweet, but there are times it’s not going to help. This was one of those times. You’d’ve just come running to my place saying I needed you or that you would be able to help Saeran. I didn’t want that, because you couldn’t help.”

I open my mouth to argue but he holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s the truth, and it’s one of the best things about you, normally. But like I said, in this case, it wouldn’t have helped.” I’m stumped; a white knight complex? Since _when_ do I act like that? Also, I _could_ have helped, by doing minimal things like grocery runs or… or… keeping him company?

Seven’s smile is strained as he looks at me. “Please, just… don’t. I don’t want to fight. I’m just happy he’s home and starting school. And it’s awesome luck that he gets paired with my best friend~ At least I know I can trust you to help him learn the ropes.” The smile is genuine now, and despite the frustration I feel there is pride rising up inside too.

I turn on my heel and go to my room, him still following closely behind. I grab some new pants and underwear and turn to find him looking through my shirts. I tilt my head as I watch him pull one out and toss it to me, a lazy smile on his face. “You look good in this one,” is all he explains before turning around to afford me the privacy I prefer. I quickly change, wondering when, exactly, he started caring about what I wear. I don’t care about what _he_ wears… oh well.

“I’m glad you think I’ll be a good partner for Saeran, but, um. I don’t know how well it’ll work while he hates me. I’ll try my hardest, but…” I trail off, not really knowing how to finish. I am worried that his past animosity is still there, hiding underneath the surface and that being around me a lot will make it come out again. But then another thought strikes me and I blurt out the question before thinking. “Is he… safe? To be around? Like, when we do our projects, am I going to be safe if it’s just the two of us?”

Seven laughs, and my heart feels a little lighter at that. I find myself chuckling too, although I’m not entirely certain why. I don’t think it was a stupid question; was it? No, no. It is valid. A valid concern.

“I wouldn’t have let him out in public if I didn’t think he’d be safe,” Seven replied, shaking his head. “No need to worry. Now, you seem ready, let’s get going. Breakfast is waiting!”

I trail out after him, turning the corner into the living room and freezing when I find none other than Saeran standing there, a bag from a cafe  few blocks down in one hand. Shit. Had he heard everything? He doesn’t seem upset and either Seven is totally obvious to this concerning twist of events or he doesn’t care.

“Time to get moving, boys!” he calls out cheerfully as he skips out the door, and I give a smile to Saeran. Green eyes meet mine and he scoffs, walking out after his brother without saying anything.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” I say under my breath, hooking my school bag with an elbow and following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be a sucker for unrequited YooSeven. Be prepared for more of that and PAIN bc I'm rude as hell


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day spent with the Choi twins playing Mario Kart. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind about working ahead on Tumblr. I'll post both places at the same time because I'm ultimately a lazy pos. So here's the last chapter that I currently have written, because I'm working on Ch 5 and may or may not post it tonight yet.

_“Please answer the following question in Arabic: who is fun to swing around and so fluffy when you hug her?”_

“Seriously, Seven?” I knock on his door again, watching the red light of the camera blink at me steadily. A quiet yet shrill beep sounds at my voice, the small box locking the door denying my entry. What a surprise.

_“Incorrect. You have one more attempt before countermeasures are taken.”_

I have no interest in finding out what _countermeasures_ the box is talking about, so I just grit my teeth and knock once more, loudly, hoping that someone will come open the door for me soon. “Seven, open up!” I flinch when my voice echoes loudly down the hallway, hoping that I’m not disturbing anyone other than, hopefully, Seven. He always does this to me.

_“Incorrect. Deploying countermeasures in 3, 2, 1-”  
_

The door is ripped open to reveal Seven standing before me, a large grin on his face as he lets me in at the last second. “Cutie Pie Yoosungie~ You really should learn arabic so we don’t run into this problem every time~”

I shove past him to get inside, rolling my eyes as I slip off my shoes and make a beeline for the couch. “You knew I was coming, Seven, why didn’t you just let me in right away?” Dropping onto the well-worn cushions, I wrinkle my nose at the distinct smell of Dr. Pepper wafting up from beneath me. I can’t say that my apartment is necessarily _clean,_ but at least my furniture doesn’t reek like stale soda. “Never mind, just forget it.” We’ve had this discussion before, and all it does is circle around and around, with him insisting that I should find the time to learn a language that I will probably _never_ encounter just for the sake of being able to open the door to his shitty apartment, while I point out that I always tell him when I’m on my way and is it too much to ask him to keep an eye or an ear out for when I show up?

I don’t know why I even bother, I know he’s not going to change.

I can feel my face defaulting to a pout and I try to fight it, not wanting to display how sulky I feel about this particular subject. It hurts, not being important enough for my own best friend to be ready for my arrival. Ever. The muscles around my mouth seem to be fighting me, and I’m sure my lips are doing some sort of funky dance between a frown and a smile as I try to purse them into a simple straight line, the beginning of a neutral expression. I’m so focused on this that I don’t notice him approaching until he plops down next to me, one hand ruffling my hair roughly.

“Don’t worry, God Seven-Zero-Seven will always be around to save you from the big, bad, scary door~ You can count on me to keep you safe~” he teases, cheerfully ignoring the indignant look I flash his way. Leaning forward, he pulls out a clear plastic tote from underneath the scuffed up brown coffee table in front of us, popping the lid off and digging around in it before handing me a steering wheel and a long white controller to place inside of it. This is why he’s called me over today, to - as he put it - “kick my ass in Mario Kart.” Pfft. As _if_ I am about to let that happen.

We settle back against the couch while the T.V. turns on, him scooting closer to me as I lean up against his arm. The opening menu song blares out more loudly than is necessary and he lets out a “woop!” and fist pumps once, far more excited than I’ve seen him in a while. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face in response; his enthusiasm is always contagious.

He pauses, the cursor hovering over where it asks how many are playing, his brow furrowed and mouth scrunched to the side. I’m just about to ask what’s wrong when he suddenly twists around, shouting over his shoulder. “Hey, Saeran! Wanna come play Mario Kart?” There’s silence while he turns back, selecting the multiplayer option until a muffled voice comes from the hallway. Seven’s face lights up in a grin and he shrugs me off, leaning forward to shove his hands back into the mess of Wii-related items to find another set for his brother.

I don’t know what to make of this. I’ve been trying to talk to Saeran more, to be friendly and show him that I genuinely don’t have a problem with him, but it seems like all I’m doing is somehow making things worse. I mean, we ride to and from school together every day so he’s bound to _eventually_ figure that out, right? Yet every day his eyes get colder and colder, and yesterday he barely afforded me a glance. Even in class when I try to approach him about our project, he barely says two words to me. It bothers me that I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much, not this time around.

And for some reason, this time it hurts.

I hear heavy footsteps approaching from behind and I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my head, flinching slightly when he leans past me to grab the proffered controller from Seven. Making his way around the couch, he chooses to sit at the far end, about a body’s width of space between him and where Seven and I sit squished together. I suddenly feel very aware of the fact that most of one side of my body is touching Seven and I start to scoot away to put a little distance between us, but Seven’s arm shoots out and pulls me back against him almost immediately. He’s smirking down at me, his eyes dancing with mischief and I slump against the back of the couch, knowing there’s no way he’s going to let me move easily. Which is completely fine, normally. I’m used to him wanting to be in contact with me in some way when we’re at his place, and since I don’t have a girlfriend, it’s nice to cuddle with someone. Not weird at all. But with Saeran here, something about it just feels… off.

I dare to shoot Saeran a smile, and the look he casts me in response is icy before he turns to look at the screen, fingers pressing the required buttons to connect his controller. It feels like my heart is shriveling and I blink back the burning feeling rising up, not even sure _why_ the tears are trying to come but certainly not wanting them to. The body next to me shifts slightly and suddenly I’m pulled into the crook of Seven’s arm, meaning my face is doing that thing again where it’s painfully transparent to my feelings. He only holds me like this when it’s obvious that I’m about to cry. His long arm is looped around my neck, his other one coming up across my chest to help direct the cursor to choose his character. Oh, right; I should probably do that, too.

Seven ends up choosing Toad, while Saeran goes for Shy Guy. I choose my normal character, Yoshi. I don’t know _why_ I always go for him, but I do. Maybe it’s because I can relate to him; always called cute despite the fact that he’s actually rather dangerous and clever.

Because I’m so dangerous and clever. Nevermind, sometimes I think the stupidest things.

Soon we’re on our way to selecting a track, and my heart drops when I see Seven pick the series that has Rainbow Road on it. That particular course is my weakness, and the jerk knows it. I sniff loudly and lean forward, narrowing my eyes at the screen as the countdown begins. Then we’re driving and I’m lost in the game, my body tilting with the controller as I maneuver my way around all of the computer-controlled racers and Seven.

What I’m not expecting is how talented Saeran is at this game. I’m better than Seven but just barely, squeaking past him most times by the hair on my head - or, er, the spikes on Yoshi’s. But if I’m playing this game on something equivalent to hard mode, then Saeran’s definitely mastered expert because Shy Guy zooms past me almost immediately and is off in the distance for the rest of the race. I try everything in my bag of tricks to catch up to him, including using a blue shell, but nothing works. The first race ends and I am sitting in 2nd place for the first time in a long, long time.

“Wow, Saeran, you’re really good at this game!” I cringe at the awe in my voice; what am I, 12 years old again? Oh, and great, the heat in my face means I’m blushing. Groaning, I raise a hand to cover my eyes as I slump back against the couch in embarrassment.

Seven chuckles next to me, mumbling about my supposed “cuteness” under his breath, but there’s complete silence from Saeran’s direction. Parting my fingers just the tiniest bit, I sneak a peek to find him watching me with his head tilted to the side, his red hair falling to cover most of one eye as he gives me an indecipherable look. Wait, is that… is that the beginning of a smile? I drop my hand to get a better look and it’s like I never saw it; his eyes are diverted back to the T.V. with a bored expression written across his features. Weird… did I imagine it? Probably.

We play through the rest of the courses, all quietly focused on our mission save for the occasional frustrated shout from Seven or me when something like, oh, _getting knocked off rainbow road by your stupid best friend_ happens. Saeran doesn’t make any noise, just sits curled up in his corner of the couch and plays, completely relaxed. When I can spare a glance at him, it doesn’t even appear like he’s trying. Yet he always comes in first, every single time without fail. Even on the cursed rainbow road, he’s crossing the finish line before I’m even halfway around the track on my third lap.

Alright, time to put my serious face on and show him just who he’s messing with.

We play a few more rounds, and each time I manage to get closer and closer to him, until finally I manage to beat him once. Only once, but I bask in the glory of that one win as Seven stands up and cheers loudly, finger gunning at his brother and rubbing the loss in his face. Saeran just rolls his eyes and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like “idiot” at him, and I end up laughing because it’s just too funny to watch them interact like this.

The loud ringing of a gong suddenly sweeps through the room and I jump, eyes wide as I look for the source of the noise. Seven’s expression changes at the sound, becoming more of a look of dread when he drops his wheel onto the couch and disappears in the direction of his room. I sit my controller down as well, climbing back on the couch with an arm draped over the back, watching the hallway curiously to see what’s going on.

“He’s being called to work.” I swing my eyes over to Saeran, finding him still staring at the T.V., though he also has sat down his controller and is now picking at his painted-black fingernails. He shifts slightly under my gaze, as though me looking at him is uncomfortable for him. “That’s what that sound means. The agency is sending out a bulletin to tell him he needs to report in right now.”

Wow. This is… this is far more information than Seven has _ever_ told me. I mean, I knew he worked and that the schedule was far from ideal, but I had no idea where or doing what. Not that Saeran has exactly specified that, but still. Maybe I can get more information out of him? That’s not… a _bad_ thing for me to do, right?

I try to look as innocent as possible, widening my eyes just the slightest as I tilt my head to the side. “The agency?” I ask in a confused voice, turning away from the hallway to direct my full attention on him. His eyes flicker over to me for the briefest moment before he looks down at his hands, his mouth twitching. I chew on my lip as I watch him, hoping to finally have a chance to peek into my best friend’s elusive life.

There’s the smallest sigh and then he places his hands flat on his pants, the pinky closest to me tapping a steady rhythm. “I… didn’t know he hadn’t told you. The agency is-”

“-not something for you to worry about!” Shoot. Here comes Seven, jacket on and laptop bag in tow, his face devoid of the playfulness it had possessed only minutes ago as he glares at Saeran. Saeran grumbles something I can’t understand, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. I turn to Seven and open my mouth to protest, only to have him stride forward and place a finger to my parted lips.

“No, Yoosung. There’s a reason I haven’t told you what I do. Please trust me that it’s better for you to be in the dark, okay?” His face softens as he looks at me, withdrawing his finger and shouldering the bag. Glancing at the door, a thoughtful look crosses his features before he smiles at me, eyes sparkling again. “But I do have to work extra hard today. So, cutie pie Yoosungie, think you could give me a good luck kiss?”

“Wh-what?!” I sputter, jerking back and staring at him in shock. Cuddling is one thing, but kissing? I’ve never kissed _anyone_ before, except maybe my parents and Rika’s dog. Why would I give him my first kiss? He’s a _guy,_ and just a friend!? “Wh-why would I k-kiss you?” Great, I’m stuttering now because he’s got me so flustered. I can’t even think straight - it’s like that one single sentence completely short-circuited my brain, leaving me scrambling through a void of spider-webs and empty boxes to try to come up with something appropriate to say.

Leaning over the couch so that his face is close to mine, he smirks, all confidence and courage. “Because that’s what good friends do. Kiss each other for luck, to make sure nothing bad happens while they’re away from each other.” His golden eyes are boring into mine relentlessly with an intensity I don’t see directed at me often, and I feel the ever-familiar blush creeping up into my cheeks.

“B-but I’ve never heard of th-that! That’s not a th-thing, don’t t-tease me!” If I were an emoji right now, I’d definitely be something like this: (^_^;)

He’s even closer to me now, his nose almost touching mine and I feel like I’m on fire, literally on fire from the blush spreading all over my body. This is so embarrassing and I don’t know what to believe. Do people actually do that? No one’s ever asked me for a good luck kiss before as a friend; is it a thing?

“Bro smooches, Yoosung. They’re healing for the troubled soul~” Hot breath fans over my cheeks and my eyes close and I-I-I…can’t… think…

Suddenly the air changes and I slit open my eyes to find Saeran standing between us, his back against the couch and his hands tangled in Seven’s jacket as he shoves him away. I straighten up to peer over his shoulder to see Seven giving him a _look;_ you know, one of those ones that are disgusted and angry and confused all rolled into one.

“What was that for?” he asks roughly, all warmth gone from his voice as he shoves Saeran’s hands off of him. The tension in the room has become so thick in mere seconds, and I am confused as to what, exactly, is happening between the twins right now.

I can’t see his face, but I can tell that Saeran is angry by how he’s standing; tall and barely leaning forward, hands that are shaking slightly fisted at his sides. Seven doesn’t seem intimidated, but I know _I_ would be. “Don’t tease him like that,” Saeran says, and that anger I can see is also laced in his voice. But wait; he’s standing up for me? But I thought…

My brain feels like it’s short circuiting again.

Seven makes a rude sound followed by an even ruder hand gesture before pulling the bag back up to rest on his shoulder from where it’d fallen by his elbow, pointedly walking around Saeran to head to the door. The door opens and is slammed shut behind him before I can even say goodbye, and I’m left staring at the bland wood in no small amount of confusion. _What in the world just happened?_

“He didn’t even say bye…” I whisper, drooping down further onto the couch in hurt. It feels like I screwed up again, somehow. I seem to be doing that an awful lot lately. I wish I knew why.

“Don’t worry about him,” Saeran says softly, and I glance up to see that he’s turned around to face me, but his eyes are aimed to the side again. “He’s mad at me for stopping his fun. But Yoosung… friends don’t kiss. At least, not like he was implying.”

“O-oh.” Of course they don’t. He was just playing me again, like he always does. Poor gullible Yoosung, always the easy one to talk into believing something that’s not true. “Well, th-thanks for stepping in, Saeran.”

He nods, still not looking at me. An awkward silence arises between us and I consider bringing up the psychology project. After all, this is by far the longest amount of time he’s acknowledged my existence, not to mention the longest he’s been around me, period. So this would be the ideal time, right? Right. Time to step up to the plate, Yoosung. Let’s get the ball rolling.

I open my mouth to start to ask about his ideas when he cuts me off, eyes flitting between mine for a moment before looking away again. “I have some ideas written down for the project, if you’d like to see them.” I nod mutely, feeling an excitement start to build up within me. Finally! We could work together to get this done and maybe! Maybe he’d open up to me and we could be friends.

That’s not too much to hope for, right?

He nods back, spinning around and taking a few steps before pausing, tilting his chin toward his shoulder to speak once more. “I have to get my notebook. Be right back.” And with that, he’s moving down the hall.

I stand up and stretch for a moment, letting my eyes wander around the room I’m in. It’s changed since the last time I’d been here, most likely the result of having another person livingi in the small place. Outside of the Dr. Pepper stink of the couch, it’s actually cleaner than normal; I vaguely wonder if this means that Saeran actually tries to pick up after his messy brother.

Something catches my eye on a nearby end table and I walk over to it curiously, looking down at the open pages in front of me. Oh, it’s a sketchbook! It must be Saeran’s; didn’t Seven say he was an art major of some sort? Hmm, I’ll have to ask when he comes back out. The drawing on the open page is of a character from a movie I like, and he captured her likeness really well. I wonder what else is in here?

My hands hover over the book for a moment as I debate whether or not this is okay. Is it wrong, to flip through someone’s sketches without asking? It shouldn’t be, I don’t think. He wouldn’t have left it out here if he didn’t want anyone to look at it.

I pick it up and start flipping slowly through the pages, marveling at each character I see. Some are sketches while others he’s filled in with color, but all of them are equally amazing. There are a few little comics here and there, although he hasn’t added any words to them yet. Flipping a few more pages, I find a drawing of him and Seven from when they were younger, closer to the age I first met them. And wow… it’s really good as well. Smiling, I turn the page again.

“What are you doing?” A hand reaches out and snatches the book from me, and I bite my lip, looking at him guiltily. His face is cold now, back to what I’m used to seeing from him, except there’s anger too. The book is flipped shut and he shoves a piece of paper in my hand aggressively, backing away and glaring at me. “You can look through that and decide if any of them will work. I don’t care. Now get out.”

“But Saeran,” I start to protest, wanting it to be a decision we both make and also, wanting to apologize for upsetting him.

His lip curls up as he motions to the door, his voice pitching itself even higher than usual. “I said, get out.”

Tears prickling my eyes, I bolt to the door and put my shoes on, his paper crumpled in my hand as I hastily leave the apartment. It’s upsetting enough on its own, but my mind can still see the picture on the last page I saw before he took the book from me.

It was a picture of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro smooches, Yoosung~


	5. Chapter 5

A week.

That's how long it's been since I last saw Saeran. Seven still comes to pick me up every morning, but since Saeran’s classes start about an hour later, he's apparently decided to start driving himself. I haven't even seen him in psychology, but he _must_ be in the mass of students somewhere. I mean, he wouldn't skip class just avoid me, right?

I'm getting a little antsy about our project. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to at least have his list of ideas, because they are _far_ better than anything I came up with. Whereas I had only managed to drum up stereotypical experiments like asking someone what color a word is when it's printed in yellow ink but says “green,” he'd managed some pretty unique ones. I've given up on trying to reach him to pick a subject together since he's made it pretty clear just how pissed he is at me for looking at his sketchbook by ignoring me completely. So here I am on a Sunday afternoon, staring at the crumpled paper in front of me, trying to make a decision before I let myself play some LOLOL. 

There’s the concept of mood freezing written down here, and I squint at the short descriptor he wrote down on it. His handwriting isn’t necessarily illegible, but it’s certainly not what one would describe as “neat” either. Small, like how he always tries to make himself and slanted to the left, it’s fairly inconsistent with itself and yet I somehow feel like it suits him. Maybe it’s because when I look at him I see a lot of things that contradict themselves; like how he stood up for me against Seven’s teasing and yet is still so cold. He’s a walking enigma, and I can’t decide if that fascinates or annoys me; all I know is that I need to get to know him better, for the sake of completing our assignment. I need to figure out a way to interact with him that doesn’t make him angry.

"Mood freezing. Placebo effect, make patients angry and then give them pill saying it will calm them down. Count how many are affected by it.” Hmm. Well, that sounds like an interesting concept, but I'm not sure where two non-psychology major college students would come up with something for that. It's not like we really have the means to manufacture sugar pills on our own and I'm not entirely certain where one would start looking for that, so... I think I'll pass on this one.

"Affect heuristic. Predicting risk based on how scary something is instead of more likely things. Ex: fear of rare disease, taking steps to prevent it instead of flu. Idk now to test for this." Yeah, that'd be a challenge to test. So again, pass.

"Vocational calling. The belief that you'll be happier if you feel called to your work - ask around at jobsites?" Hmm... possible, I suppose. But how many places would we have to go to get a good idea? I'm... not sold, but it's still more interesting than any of my ideas, so I'll keep it in mind.

"Idk what to call this one exactly. See if ppl likely to follow patterns on floor rather than heading straight to their destination- like the fancy carpet at that one department store." Department store? What department.... ohhh, he must mean the one in the mall. I haven't gone in there in a long time; not since Rika, actually. I do vaguely remember a carpet that I used to love to trace patterns on, walking along it happily while Rika would shop.

That sounds feasible, if it's literally just watching them. We could take turns then, I suppose, since he doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me. It would just be a matter of planning when and making sure it's fine. That's doable, right?

I copy down the small description over to my own notebook, making a note to see if I can find a better name for it. I'm just not sure Saeran's title will cut it for a paper worth a large portion of our grade. Now it's just a matter of arranging when we'll go. We've got three more weeks to gather the data, arrange it into some less disastrous, hopefully at least sort of comprehensible chart (or table or something) and then write a paper on it. Together, which will be... impossible, at the rate things are going. I'll figure that last part out later.

I think if we both go twice, that _should_ be enough data for the project. So maybe we should try to go both times over this next week and see where that leads us. If it's not enough we can probably each fit in at least another trip before we have to buckle down and start crunching numbers. Leaning back in my chair, I start chewing my lip and tapping my pencil on the paper absentmindedly as I try to think about how to approach the next parts of the paper. Perhaps I just have to corner him somehow, get him to talk to me so we can make a plan. I consider my options, mostly falling between finding him at class or going to Seven's. Last I knew, Seven was busy working so I could certainly get him alone, but then again, that could make it easier for him to run out on me, too. So... class, then. I cast a glance at the clock, frowning as I go over my class schedule for tomorrow. If I cut lunch a bit short, then I can get to class early and wait by the door to watch for him. Then I'll know where he's sitting and I can approach him at some point. Yes, that should work. It'll make sense, too, because it is our psychology class paper, after all. And it's not a long discussion, so that's a bonus.

Well, that's decided. Tossing my notebook over by my bag, I take a moment to stretch out before scooting my chair up to my computer. Unlocking it, I quickly bring up the LOLOL start page.

It's go time.

 

* * *

 

 

I manage to be the first one to arrive, the room blissfully empty when I arrive. Unwrapping the sandwich I had grabbed quickly from the school cafeteria, I debate where would be the best place to stake out his arrival. We don't technically have assigned seating but by now everyone has pretty much chosen a spot to sit that's 'theirs,' so me plopping down in one near the door is out of the question. Even though it probably wouldn't cause an issue since I would move the moment someone asked, I don't want to risk the chance that that's when he'll slip in. I could always sit across from the door in the hallway, but all that would do is confirm that he's here - and I'd still have no idea _where_ he's sitting, which isn't helpful. I turn to face the back walls of the room, considering the possibility of watching from back there. Maybe I could-

"Mr. Kim? May I help you?"

I most certainly do not emit a sound akin to that of a pterodactyl at the voice suddenly coming from behind me, flipping around to come face-to-face with my professor. Her dark brown eyes are watching me in amusement (probably due to the noise I definitely _didn't_ make), a soft smile on her face. I'm honestly surprised she knows my name; it's not like I'm particularly active in class, although I suppose I make an impression since the few times I do speak up I'm generally embarrassingly excited about whatever I have to say. Either way, I wasn't expecting to run into her quite so soon- or at all, really. I figured some of my other classmates would get here before that would happen.

"Uh, no, professor, I'm just... waiting for my partner. I-I don't know where he sits, so I thought I'd get here early and find out." Way to sound sort of stalkerish. Good job, me.

She raises an eyebrow at me, searching my face for a moment before turning around to head up to the desk at the front of the room. Setting down the books and laptop she's carrying, she lets out a sigh and starts digging through one of her folders. "I take it your partner has been avoiding you?" She doesn't sound surprised, which causes me to frown in confusion. Does Saeran have some sort of reputation I'm not aware of? Glancing back up at me as she pulls out some papers from the folder, she smiles sadly. "It's sadly not an uncommon occurrence. It's a risk we take upon assigning our students group projects. Inevitably, there will be at least a few who won't do their share. Who is your partner?"

Furrowing my eyebrows, I shift my backpack a little from where it's situated on my shoulders. "Um... S-Saeran. Choi. Saeran Choi, professor." She nods and looks back down at her forms, a finger skimming down the page until she stops.

"Mr. Choi sits there, when he attends class," she says, pointing at a table at the far back corner of the room. The last part of that sentence sounds slightly ominous, like maybe he really _hasn't_ been coming recently. God, I hope that's not the case. I'll feel terrible if I upset him so much to cause him to skip class just because I'm here. "I'm planning on giving a little bit of time at the end of class to work on it, so I suggest you catch him then." I thank her, relieved to see that other students are finally starting to shuffle in through the door. I still haven't eaten my sandwich, so I start to make my way to my seat so that I can eat it quickly.

Class goes by faster than I expect, with me doodling in my notebook as well as making a list of things that I need to talk about with Saeran. It'll be easier if I am at least mostly organized, then I can bring things up quickly, get his opinion and move on. The less time we spend in awkward (or, in his case, angry) silence, the better. As she said earlier, the professor allots the last ten minutes of class to work on our project, though I see a fair amount of my classmates choosing to interpret that as an early dismissal. All of my things save the single notebook I'm holding are already put away so that I can bolt up to where he's supposed to be sitting without having to wait.

And it must be my lucky day, because as I make my way to his table, I spot the bright red hair that tells me he is indeed there. I speed up when his eyes move over to me, a flash of surprise flitting across his face before he makes a dive for his bag, quickly shoving his books in. _Oh no, he's trying to get away._ I won't let that happen. Apologizing as I shove a few people out of my way, I make it to his table and slam my hand down on the one book still sitting there. He jumps, eyes quickly back on the ground instead of on me.

"Quit... avoiding...me," I grind out, frustrated at just how fast he'd made the decision to leave without talking to me. This _won't_ work. "I don't know what your problem with me is, Saeran, but we _have_ to get this paper done. So please, whatever it is that I've done to make you hate me, tell me how to fix it. Or at least tell me how I can be someone you can stand to be around until we finish our project."

Is that regret I see? The emotion looks so out of place on his face that I'm taken aback, mistakenly lifting my hand off of the book. Scooping it up before I have a chance to realize what he's doing, he shoves it in his bag and zips it up. Throwing the bag on his back, he finally looks up at me, his gaze icy again. "I don't care about the stupid project. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. But I don't need to be around _you_ for that." He pushes past me, his shoulder knocking into mine as he moves.

My hand is on his arm in an instant, and I'm just as shocked as he looks when I realize it. Well, since I have his attention, I may as well move forward. "S-Saeran, _please,_ tell me how to make this better," I plead, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. I'm not sure that he'll even be able to hear me with how loud the room is around us, the students all milling about as they discuss their assignment.

"You can't," he replies, just as quietly, shaking off my hand. "Now leave me alone, Yoosung. Go bother my brother if you need someone." And with that he's gone, disappearing into the group of students leaving the room.

I lean back against the table, running a hand through my hair. I am honestly so confused about this whole thing, and I'm out of ideas on how to approach him. Well, I guess if he's giving me total control of the project, then I'll just have to accept that and take the reins. When I get home tonight, I'll plot out something that seems fair and... text it to Seven, apparently. Ugh.

I'm about to stand up to leave when a girl falls against me, knocking my notebook out of my hand. "S-sorry," she sputters, her face turning bright red. "I tripped, uh. Sorry!"

"It's okay," I respond, smiling. She returns it before bouncing off with what I assume is her group of friends, and I watch her for a moment, wondering what I'll have to do to find someone like that for me. Shaking my head, I bend down to grab my notebook when I see a sheet of paper lying on the ground under the table. The handwriting is familiar, and I grab it up as well, hoping it's not something important for one of Saeran's next classes. As I'm about to slide it in a folder to drop off later, something in the bottom corner catches my eye.

...me, again.

I don't get it. If he hates me so much, why is he doodling pictures of me? Ack, my head hurts from how confusing this whole thing is. Tucking it safely away, I resolve to put the drawing out of my mind to address later. Much, much later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight time skip~ the paper is done and turned in, and we're moving onto the next assignment. :)

I'm staring at the paper in front of me, pleasantly surprised at the grade. “A Study In How Floor Patterns Can Affect How People Walk” managed to somehow garner nearly top marks, despite how sure I was that it would be a disaster.

After he stormed out on me in class, I kinda gave up on working together with Saeran. I dutifully laid out the plans, resigned myself to compiling the data alone and then had him write about half of the paper. Since the main part was split into fourths, that wasn't all too difficult to divvy up and I was impressed with how much content he'd actually returned to me. Regardless, I hadn't bothered reading through it - I just didn't have the energy or drive to fix any errors if I found them - and had simply slapped the paper together and pulled together sorry excuses for the opening and closing paragraphs. I had expected a mediocre grade at best.

It's a nice way to start out the class, especially considering the topic I have decided upon for my solo paper; I'm going to look into why identical twins can grow up in the same environment yet still be so different. There may be a _little_ personal interest in it… fine, a lot. It'll be a good topic, though! There's tons of research out there, plus I happen to have two friends- err, one friend and one… something - that qualify as identical twins, so I can sneak in a personal interview too.

That is, assuming I can get either of them to _talk_ to me about it. Saeran seems less closed off about the past than Seven, but he’s made it fairly clear that he has no desire whatsoever to be near me. Seven will probably agree to the interview but be irritatingly vague, as usual. Oh well, at least it’ll count as a source even if I don’t get usable material and hey, I could be surprised, right? Probably not, but I’m going to try to be optimistic about this one.

The professor claps to get our attention, starting right into the lecture. Instead of listening, I pull out my phone and set it on my lap, flipping it open to shoot a quick text to Seven.

 

_Me [12:50] Hey Seven ^^ Got a question for you!_

 

I’m about to put it away when it buzzes softly; I should’ve known he’d respond immediately, he pretty much always does. Even in school.

 

_Seven [12:51] wassuuuuuuup, homie? Lolol_

_Me [12:52] I was wondering if you’d be willing to let me interview you for class?_

_Me [12:54] You and uh… Saeran._

_Seven [12:55] lolol_

_Seven [12:55] I can’t speak for brother dearest, u know that._

_Me [12:57] I know, but… he won’t tlak to me adn I figurde he might sya yes if you ask_

_Seven [12:58] I’m sorry, I couldn’t read that with all the typos, could you send it again?_

_Me [12:59] Seven;;; please be serious_

_Seven [12:59] I’m always serious_

_Seven [13:00] are u really that scared of him?_

 

I pause; am I scared of him? No, that’s not the right word. I don’t find him frightening or anything, but I’m not really in a hurry to approach him to ask for anything, either. He obviously doesn’t like me and I get this weird… feeling in my stomach when he says that. Kind of like dread, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would I feel dread over him saying he doesn’t like me?

 

_Seven [13:03] Earth to Yoosungie, are you still there?_

_Me [13:04] I’m not scared of him, he doesn’t like me_

_Me [13:05] I don’t think he’d say yes if I ask. T_T_

_Seven [13:06] ...u think he doesn’t like you?_

_Me [13:07] yeah?_

_Me [13:10] I mean, he’s outright said that he doesn’t so why would I doubt that?_

_Me [13:15] Seven?_

_Seven [13:19] sorry, got busy_

_Seven [13:19] yah, I can ask for u, do u have a time you want to do this?_

_Me [13:21] the paper isn’t due for weeks yet, but soon?_

_Me [13:23] I just want to make sure I have plenty of time to get ready and then I can ask follow-up questions if needed?_

_Seven [13:25] ya_

_Seven [13:25] I’ll ask him later and let you know_

_Me [13:26] Thanks!_

_Seven [13:27] Anything for my cutie pie~_

 

Slumping in my seat in relief, I slip my phone into my pocket and smile absentmindedly at the notebook in front of me. That went pretty well, all things considered. Not that I expected Seven to turn me down, but it wasn't outside of the realm of possibility. Hopefully he'll be able to convince Saeran to talk to me, too; the interview will be useless if I can't talk to both of them. I doodle some stars on the side of the paper, not even bothering to take any notes during the remainder of the class. I’ll have to see if someone will loan me theirs later; at this point, there’s really no reason to start. I’ve missed too much already.

When it’s finally over, I take my time putting my stuff away. My next class is cancelled, so I plan to go to the library and start looking up things for my paper. It’s nice not having to rush for once, and the room in nearly empty by the time I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder. I’m about to start heading toward the door when the sound of a throat being cleared behind me gives me pause. Turning around, I see Saeran standing there, looking at the ground and for once I’m _glad_ that’s the case. I can tell I am doing a poor job of concealing my shock despite how much I’m wrestling with my face, and that fact is causing heat to flood my face in embarrassment.

I hate how easily I blush.

“Hi, Saeran. Um… did you need something?” Upon closer inspection, I see that he is holding his copy of our paper, clutching it with both hands tight enough that the paper is wrinkling between his fingers. Is he not happy with the grade? I shift uneasily, my arms tense at my sides as I nervously tap my fingers against my legs. Scrunching my mouth to the side, I dip my brows in concern and hope that I didn't somehow mess things up even more between us. 

He ducks his head a bit, shaking his red hair into his eyes, giving him a fringe to look through when he finally makes eye contact with me. The paper crunches a little in his grip and he leans a little to the left, placing his weight mostly on that foot. "I just wanted to say thanks. For how hard you worked on the paper, and-" A sigh and then he brings his hand up to swipe the hair aside, eyelids fluttering closed as he takes a large breath and releases it slowly. Blinking his eyes back open, he stands up straighter and seems to steel himself for whatever he's about to say. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole, Yoosung. You didn't deserve any of that, and I- I'm sorry."

Whoa, I didn't see that coming. "O-oh, it's okay!" I say, unable to help the smile crossing my face. "I forgive you." People often tell me that I'm too quick to forgive but looking at the relief that crosses his face, I don't know if I believe what they say is true. Honestly, I find the very act in itself incredibly freeing, and it helps me bounce back to my cheerful mood that I like to be in. Chewing on my lip a bit, I keep smiling at him, bouncing a bit on the balls of my feet out of excitement. If he is doing this, if he is apologizing, then maybe there is hope for a friendship between us yet?

Silence descends between us quickly, and I can sense the awkwardness emanating from him. I'm not sure how to make it more comfortable but I think maybe I can at least give it a shot. "So... how is school going for you? You're an art major, right?" The two pictures of me he's drawn immediately pop to the forefront of my mind, but I try to push them back; there's no way I'm asking about those anytime soon. Honestly, I'll probably never ask about those. For some reason I can't seem to identify, it feels like I glimpsed something meant to be private when I saw them.

"Yeah." The answer is short, but it's lacking the coldness that I've become used to hearing from him. He narrows his eyes at me a moment before sliding his bag off of his shoulder and unzipping it, shoving the paper in and pulling out a folder. Mint eyes linger on the black cover for a few moments before he offers it to me, his gaze back on the floor. "Here. I, um. I thought of you when-well. You'll see. Anyway, h-have a good rest of your day." As soon as I accept it, he shuts the bag and turns to leave, one hand going up to ruffle his hair. Confused, I blink down at the folder a moment before realizing something.

"W-wait!" I call out, hurrying forward to try to catch him, but he's already almost out the door. When he turns back, I falter a bit in my steps when his eyes meet mine; there's an intensity and warmness to them that I've never seen there before, and is that the beginning of a blush on his cheeks? "I-I, uhm. I sorta zoned out today and missed most of the lecture," I start, running my hand over the back of my neck and smiling at him sheepishly. Eyebrows furrowing, he tilts his head to the side as he waits for me to continue. "Is there any chance that I can, uh, borrow your notes to copy?"

The air between us is suddenly heavy, and I can't help but feel like this is a crossroads in our relationship, that the answer he gives me is going to be indicative of the path we travel on from here. I'm clasping my hands together in front of me, one of my thumbs rubbing over the other as I wait for what seems like eons for an answer. The ghost of a smile flickers across his face suddenly and he nods, one again grabbing his bag and reaching in, this time pulling out a notebook and opening it to rip out a couple of pages. My grin stretches to the point of taking up most of my lower face and I reach out to take them, shivering when my fingers brush against his. Retracting his hand as though the touch burned, his face turns a little pinker than before and he mumbles something about returning them at the next class before rushing away, disappearing down the hallway.

Shrugging off my own bag so that I can put both the notes and the folder in it, I wonder for a moment what it was about that small touch that caused my heart to start racing. It makes no sense to me, unless it's just because we've never really touched before? Whatever. I stare for a moment at the folder before quickly exiting the room completely, leaning against the hallway wall. He'd said he'd thought of me in some way in connection to what is inside; there's no way I can't look, I'm too curious. So I open it, my eyes widening and letting out an awed breath at what I see.

It's a painting of the night sky, vivid in its use of color and absolutely breathtaking to see. There's a gorgeous shooting star crossing in the middle, and I run a finger over it, marveling at the contrast it casts against the dark background and the other stars. It's just so _beautiful_ , and he thought of _me_ when he saw it? Or wait... there's some initials on the bottom, I think. I peer at them, gasping when I make out what I think is "S.C."; can it be? Flipping it over, I see a short note on the back:


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung accidentally spends the day with Saeran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've been dealing with a lot in real life. Lupus flare up, work picking up, kids, life in general. But it's a little longer than normal. Thanks for being patient.

Once again I find myself standing outside of Seven’s apartment staring down his door. Rolling my eyes, I take that final step forward, activating its security protocols. Today I’m running on ultimate sass levels - I woke up in a fairly bad mood - so I’m actually looking forward to giving the door a piece of my mind. The little black box blinks its red light at me before the robotic voice speaks.

_“Please answer the following question in Arabic: who is the greatest friend of them all, the defender of justice for both big and small?_

Oh my lord. “You’ve got to be kidding me. _That’s_ your question? God, how full of yourself can you get?” I knock loudly and impatiently, increasing the volume as the door tries to inform me about me having one more chance before countermeasures, blah blah. I don’t care. “Shut up, you stupid box,” I growl, thumping my forehead against the wood in frustration, “and let me inside before I show _you_ what countermeasures _I_ will take.”

Then, as if by magic, the door opens. Raising my head, I blink in surprise when I see Saeran standing on the other side, a look of confusion on his face. “Threatening to take out the security system now?” he deadpans and I can’t help but smile weakly, huffing out a single laugh. Neither of us move for a second, his eyes scanning over me before flickering over to the box. “He does pick stupid questions, doesn’t he?” With that, he steps back, allowing me inside.

The apartment is oddly silent, generally not a good sign. It either means that A) Seven is about to pull some sort of prank on me or B) he’s not here at all. I’m not really in the mood for a prank but I’ll take it right now if it means he’s around since I came over to do the interview for my paper. Running a hand through my hair, I toss my bag on the couch and turn to face Saeran as he’s closing the door. I can feel the scowl on my face and I know it’s not fair to direct it at him because it’s not his fault, but I also can’t seem to get rid of it.

Green eyes meet mine and he instantly holds up his hands, palms facing me with a slightly alarmed look on his face. “He was called into work late last night and hasn’t be home since,” he says cautiously, averting his gaze when my scowl deepens. “I-he was supposed to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” I grumble, dropping onto the couch sullenly. Crossing my arms, I glare at the coffee table in front of me, cursing Seven in my mind. Why? Why would he not tell me? Seriously, this is so dumb. I need them _both_ to answer my questions in order for it to work. Granted, I still have plenty of time before I need to really worry about it but that’s not the point; he should have told me. A small chunk of my hair falls forward and I puff some air at it, trying to get it out of my face so I can be angry in peace.

A small chuckle catches my attention and I glance up to see Saeran looking at me with a hand covering his mouth. Did he just _laugh_ at me? “What’s so funny?” _Stay mad, stay mad, stay mad,_ I chant to myself, not quite willing to give up on my little temper tantrum yet. Yet for some reason as I look at Saeran I can feel my anger melting away; his red hair is even wilder than usual and the sides of his eyes are crinkled, most likely meaning he’s hiding a smile under that hand of his. The lack of black surrounding his eyes makes me realize that I either woke him up or was very close to doing so, because he hasn’t even gotten ready for today. Which means - yep, he’s still in sleep pants and a plain black t-shirt. Oops.

Shaking his head, Saeran drops his hand slowly to reveal the lopsided grin gracing his face as he looks at me. “Nothing,” he says at first, causing me to narrow my eyes at him in frustration. All that accomplishes is making his smile grow wider still. “It’s just that… when you’re mad, you’re…” he trails off, a light pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. Fingers are playing with the bottom of his shirt, rubbing it between middle and thumb and he looks to the side, a shy look passing over his face.

I think I know where this is going, but I can’t let the sentence hang in the air like that. “I’m?” I prompt, gesturing for him to continue. _Please don’t say cute. Anything but cute._

“Cute.” _Damn. It._ Groaning, I lean forward and bury my face in my hands. It is both my blessing and my curse to be ‘cute,’ something I can never escape even when it’s the last thing I want to be. My whole life people have said I’m cute when I’m mad, which usually makes me more mad and then they say it’s still cute… and the cycle goes on. Just for once I’d like to be able to express some sort of emotion without it being cute; is that too much to ask for?

Silence hangs in the air between us for a while before I hear the scuffling of feet against the floor. Peeking out between my fingers, I see Saeran reach up and scratch his forehead, weight shifting awkwardly from one leg to the other. He clears his throat and then says softly, “I’m sorry if that was… wrong to say.”

Guilt slams into me like a 50 pound hammer and I sigh, dropping my hands and sitting up. None of this is fair on Saeran; not me interrupting his morning, not Seven dropping the ball on telling me _not_ to come over and certainly not me subjecting him to a foul mood that is not his fault. “No, no, you’re fine,” I assure him, rubbing my temples wearily. “I hear that a lot, I just don’t generally like being told it when I’m, you know, mad.” I smile at him, hoping it comes across more cheerful than I feel.

“Ah.” He’s looking down the hallway with a faraway look on his face, almost like he doesn’t remember I’m here. Well. I should probably go home so I don’t take up any more of his time. I need to work off this frustration, anyway; I foresee a couple of rounds of LOLOL in my future. Nothing better than killing monsters or even helping bus newbies around to make myself feel better. Pulling my bag into my lap, I stand up, taking a step in his direction.

Eyebrows dip when he looks back at me, his eyes flicking from my face to my bag and then back again. “Oh… are you going?” Something in his tone gives me pause; is that _disappointment?_

Sliding the bag on my shoulder, I give a quick nod. “I don’t want to take up more of your time when I’m not even supposed to be here,” I explain, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Plus, I’m not in a good mood today and all I’ve done since I got here is take it out on you.” The guilt increases when I say that and I kick my foot at the ground, dropping my eyes to the side. All I’ve been wanting since Saeran showed up again was to become his friend and now that it seems we’re finally headed down that path, I have to go and ruin it by being a jerk.

“You don’t have to go… if you don’t want to.” Furrowing my brows, I look back up to see him watching me with what appears to be hope etched in his features. That… doesn’t make sense. “Um. If you want to play games, we have some games here? Or if there’s something else you’d like to do…” He visibly gulps and that’s when it hits me just how nervous he is right now. He’s nervous, and he’s more or less asking me to stay. To hang out, like friends.

Okay. I can do that.

I smile brightly at him, feeling some of my ill mood evaporate. “If you want me to, yeah!” My bag falls to the floor and I bounce on my toes, excitement starting to build. I’ve never hung out with Saeran before and I’m super curious to see what’s he’s like underneath that prickly surface.

We end up agreeing to play Mario Kart again, partially because it’s one of the only multi-player games they own and partially because he mentions he really enjoys it. While our characters are zooming through the tracks, he opens up a bit about how he used to play one of the older versions of this game with Seven when one of them had a rough day. It just became a way to destress, to relax and have fun. That transferred over to adulthood once he came back from rehab - a place I noticed he mentioned with a rather neutral tone - and he plays it whenever he feels stressed. No wonder he’s so good.

Unlike the day when all three of us played, Saeran’s a lot more animated as we start to get competitive. He still doesn’t move around as much as I do, but he does lean forward and allow his body to slightly tilt whenever he turns the wheel. He’s also more vocal, grumbling or softly cheering when certain events happen. I glance over to see a look of concentration on his face, his red hair floating over the tops of his squinting eyes, nose wrinkled and tongue sticking just the tiniest bit out between his lips. Some odd feeling rises in my chest, but I just push it away; I don’t want to do any sort of introspection today to figure out what it is. I realize I’m staring when my character beeps for going too far off the track and my eyes snap back to the tv, immediately switching back into gamer mode, zooming around to try to catch up.

We play a few rounds and each time he gets progressively more relaxed around me. Never to the point that it feels like he’s fully open or comfortable, but enough that it no longer feels stiff and awkward. We chat a bit, with me mostly dominating the conversation but him inserting tidbits and answering or asking questions as necessary. I’m very cautious about keeping the topics present-oriented, mostly about school or what we do in our spare time, not wanting to end up asking the wrong thing and causing him to clam up. If he’s anything like Seven, the past is a touchy subject and the little I know of his past would lead me to believe it’s definitely more sensitive.

“So how did you get into drawing?” We just finished talking about what we liked and disliked about our classes, and it didn’t take long for me to notice that anytime he speaks about art his eyes light up. Actually, it’s not just his eyes… it’s his everything. Like somebody plucked a star from the sky and gently placed it in his heart so that when he’s doing something he loves he shines.

A voice in the back of my mind whispers that I want him to look at me like that one day. I shush it and shove it off a cliff.

Narrowing his eyes at the screen, he barely avoids a green shell before answering. “I’ve always liked it, but…I dropped it when I joined a gang. I didn’t get into it again until I went to rehab.” He hesitates, like there’s more he wants to say, so I remain quiet, just trying to get Yoshi to stay on the stupid rainbow road while occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. It remains quiet until we complete the track - with me not even placing in the top four, stupid level - at which point he sighs and puts down his controller, turning to face me directly. Fingers tapping on his thighs again, he slowly meets my gaze, that shy little smile back in place. “I find it really relaxing to draw whatever’s on my mind. It can be hard work, and yeah, school sometimes makes me stress out over it but generally it’s my go-to to calm down.” I nod; this makes sense. It would be like how I play LOLOL to calm down but if it were to somehow be my job or I had to study it, occasionally it wouldn’t be fun because it would be work.

His eyes drop to the side again. “I… I’m sorry I freaked out when you looked through my sketchbook. I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

“N-no!” Shaking my head rapidly, I drop my controller onto my lap to wave my hands.  “I shouldn’t’ve looked without asking! It was rude, I’m sorry.” Scratching my forehead, I look at him sheepishly. “I was just curious, I saw you drew Leia and it kinda… captured my attention. I liked it.”

Saeran’s eyebrows knit together and he gives me a strange look, as though I’m suddenly a mystery to him. “You… liked that picture,” he repeats slowly, his voice full of confusion.

“I think so?” What’s so weird about me liking the picture? To be honest, even though the drawing in and of itself was amazing, what _really_ drew me was that he _didn’t_ choose to put her in the slave outfit. No, she was wearing her outfit from The Empire Strikes Back, all white with a vest, standing regal and brave. It was a perfect depiction of what her character was really about. “But also, that painting you gave me was stunning. I have it hanging up in my room!” I love stars, I really do; my room has a lazy star theme going. Lazy as in I didn’t put much effort into it, but it’s there if you look. Saeran’s gift fits right in, not to mention it’s a _gift_ and it’s beautiful.

“Oh… thanks.” Silence descends between us for a moment and I fidget with the controller, tracing the outline of the buttons as I try to think of what to say to him. He beats me to it. “If… you liked those, would you want to see what else I’ve done?”

I perk up instantly, scooting to the edge of my seat and grinning at him enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course! I-if you’re comfortable with that, that is,” I quickly tack on when I see surprise flash across his face at my reaction. I really need to remember to try to temper myself around Saeran; he just seems so timid and easily made nervous. Definitely not a combination I expected from him based on what I know from Seven, but… maybe it’s just something that comes from what he’s lived through.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t...dork,” he says softly, standing and beckoning me to follow. Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I trail behind him as he leads us down the hallway.

I know Seven somehow manages to afford a three-bedroom apartment, but I wasn’t expecting the third to have been more or less completely repurposed into an art studio for Saeran. When he opens the door, my jaw drops; the walls are populated with various paintings, some obviously done in anger while others have a more tranquil vibe to them. There’s an easel in the back corner and two desks back to back in the middle, one covered in scattered sketches and the other more organized. Saeran makes his way to a window, tying back the heavy curtains to let the natural light shine in before turning to me.

“So uh. This is where I work.” Waving a hand in a gesture meant to encompass the room, he ducks his head and shuffles his feet a little. “There’s finished paintings over there-” he points at a couple of rows of canvases along the wall, “my sketches are in that mess there-” the desk filled with lots of paper, “and there’s other random stuff littered throughout the room.” Shrugging, he gives a small laugh. “I… spend a lot of time in here. Obviously.”

“Yeah…” I breathe out, looking around with wide eyes. Slowly stepping forward, I head over to the canvasses lining the wall first. Dropping to my knees, I reach out a careful hand to go through them. A ship at sea in the middle of a storm, the bow breaking and the deck cracking; a grassy field filled with flowers and wildlife, the sun shining brightly down; empty chairs at empty tables; the snow melting away to glimpse at some of the earth underneath. There’s so many and every one of them is filled with such emotion, to the point that I feel like I can tell what mood he was in when he painted them. Some are in different styles, most likely experimenting to find what was comfortable for him. There’s a few that are obviously drawn for anatomy purposes, but even those are impressive. It’s very evident just how much time he’s put into this and how much he loves doing it.

“Wow, Saeran, I’m… wow.” _Speechless,_ my brain provides helpfully after I give up searching for the word. “These are so beautiful.” Making my way over to the desk, I shuffle through the sketches there. Many of these are people or body parts, possibly for school. There's several pictures of either Seven or Seven and Saeran, both as children and adults, but very few seem happy. One in particular catches my eye: it shows Seven pointing to someone off the paper with what appears to be a lovestruck expression on his face while Saeran stands next to him but a few steps back, not looking where Seven is but instead at his brother with… resignation? Everything about him here suggests he's given up- slumped shoulders, bent over slightly, head drooping, like a wilted flower. It hurts to look at. I wonder what that's about.

There's some pictures of V as well, but those are sketched with what feels like anger behind them. Otherwise it’s people I don’t know or occasionally characters from movies or cartoons; some business man with a cat appears a few times, the same cat I saw in some pictures with Seven. Interesting. Maybe I'll ask sometime.

 _I wish I could draw like this._ “You can.” Startled, I lift my head to see Saeran standing on the other side of the desks, watching me with interest.

“Did… did I say that out loud?” I ask, mildly horrified. He nods and I groan, covering my face. “Why am I like this…”

The sound surprises me at first when I hear it. At first it's a giggle, like the one from earlier but freer, but it quickly changes into a full belly laugh. Dropping my hands slowly, I look up to see Saeran leaning over, one palm on the desk supporting him while the other is clutching his chest. I feel like I should be offended that he's laughing, but strangely enough, I'm not. The look on his face is amused and almost _happy_ , and his laugh is pitched much higher than I'd ever imagined for him. It suits him, strangely enough. I break out into a grin watching him. He looks perfect like this.

Gradually he calms down, shaking his head before glancing back up at me _and there it is, the light is shining out of him while he's looking at me._ My heart skips a beat.

“Sorry, I couldn't help it,” he apologizes, giving me a lopsided smile that I want to see on his face constantly. Lifting his palm off the table, he cards both of his hands through his hair, eyes flitting around the desk in front of him as though in search of something. “You said that like it's terrible, like all those little things that make you Yoosung are embarrassing. But you're wrong.” His eyes meet mine for a second before he's back to searching the desk. The sound of paper rustling is the only noise in the room until he pulls out what looks like another sketchbook. Setting it down before him, he flashes me a pointed look, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to learn? I can show you the basics.”

It's surprising that I don't knock anything over in my rush to get around the desk, bouncing on my toes with my bottom lip pulled between my teeth in excitement. Saeran chuckles and motions to the chair. “I'll take that as a yes.”

Sitting down quickly, I scoot up and then look at him expectantly, not sure what to do next. He laughs again. “That’s a new sketchbook. Just open it and grab one of those pencils and I’ll give you tips as you go.” Okay. I can do this.

I flip the black cover of the book open, staring down at the off-white page apprehensively. I’ve never been confident enough to try to draw, but it’s been a passive interest just sitting in the back of my mind. I’m curious to see how a picture will turn out with Saeran guiding me. He’s got an array of different pencils in a cup, and after some study, I choose a simple mechanical one, glancing up at him. He nods. I put the pen to the paper and… freeze.

“What do you want to draw?” he prompts, leaning on the desk next to me, staring at where the point of the pencil is touching the paper. “Just pick the first thing that comes to mind.”

The first thing that comes to mind… “Rika,” I say quietly, smiling a little. “I’d like to draw my cousin.”

Saeran stiffens immediately, pulling back and staring at me with furrowed eyebrows, his expression dark. I’m not sure what I did to cause this reaction, but before I can ask he reaches up and violently rubs his hair, shutting his eyes and rolling his neck. When he opens them again, the green is back to the blank look I’m used to seeing there, but… not what I’d seen earlier today. Somehow I managed to take several steps back by just saying I want to draw my cousin.

“Okay,” he says simply, motioning toward the paper. “Draw a circle where you want the head to be.” And so it starts with me slowly doing as he says, constantly stopping and erasing. I bite my tongue in concentration as I slowly work up the basic frame of the body, changing things when he tells me to. Eventually that part’s done and if I squint at it, it looks kinda like a decent approximation of a human.

“Good job,” he says, smiling. It’s good to see him smile again but it’s still tight, like he’s still upset about something. “Now you need to work on making it look like a body instead of several different parts.” So I start sketching again, trying to transform the random circles and ovals into something closer to an actual body with Saeran interjecting tips randomly.

“Make the shoulders softer; they don’t come to a point like that.”

“Good job on the abdomen, but don’t forget that she had hips.”

“You’re too stiff, loosen up so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yoosung,” Saeran says at one point after I’m starting to work on clothes, “remember, you need to move from your elbow, not your wrist.” I let out a frustrated noise; he’s told me this over and over again but I can’t seem to do it to his satisfaction. Focusing, I try again. “No,” he says, suddenly leaning over and latching onto my wrist. “You’re still moving this too much.” He shakes it gently, eyes looking at me seriously. “Use your elbow to propel your hand where you want it to go.” Still holding on, he tilts his head at the paper to tell me to keep drawing. My mind doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s completely focused on where his fingers are wrapped around my wrist, sending little currents of electricity skittering across my skin. Why, though? Why does it feel this way? “Yoosung,” he gently urges and I exhale forcefully, trying to turn my attention to the paper again. It halfway works, enough that I can start moving the pencil again. He leaves his hand there, keeping my wrist mostly stationary and forcing me to use my elbow as I sketch out a dress.

“Saeran! You’ll never guess who just called me, I…” We both jump and turn to the doorway when Seven enters, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Saeran releases me as though it suddenly burns to touch me, moving a few steps away and averting his eyes completely from his brother. The air feels like it’s thickening again, similar to how it was the day Seven was trying to convince me to kiss him.

“Yoosung,” Seven says flatly, face devoid of any emotion. “You’re here.”

Dropping the pencil, I let out a frustrated sigh and glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah? Someone forgot to tell me that he wasn’t going to be here, so I showed up?” I huff, narrowing my eyes at him. “For me supposedly being your best friend, you sure never think to tell me things. At least your brother was nice enough to offer to hang out with me since I was already here.”

“Yoosung, please, don’t,” Saeran whispers, and I glance back to see him looking at me with pleading eyes. What in the world is happening? These two seem fine with each other most of the time but for some reason whenever I’m around, things get intense real quickly.

“Is that what you think.” Seven’s still got that blank look on his face, and it’s actually starting to creep me out a little. “Would you prefer Saeran be your best friend?”

I do a double-take at his words. “What? That’s not what I said… why are you being like this?”

Shaking his head, Seven moves out of the doorway. “Yoosung, please leave.” His voice is thick, heavy, like he’s holding back a dam of emotion that’s about to burst at any moment. But the look he casts me as he says it _hurts._ It’s anger and betrayal. Why would he feel that way?

“Fine.” I stand up, all my frustration returning in one fell swoop as I march toward the door. I turn before I exit and look right at Saeran, noticing how he’s still not looking at either of us. “Thank you for showing me how to draw, Saeran. It was fun.” Ducking around Seven I race out into the living room to grab my bag and leave, heart thumping loudly.

What the hell is going on?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempt at interview: #2

Another week passes before I decide to attempt the interview again and this time, I call Seven before showing up. After confirmation that he is home and still willing to participate, I pack my stuff up and head to the bus stop.

Hopefully today will go well enough between all three of us. Depending on the atmosphere between the twins, I’m prepared to be either professional and distant or my normal self. I don’t know that I’ll be very good at the former, but if it’s necessary, then I will do it. I _need_ to get this interview done and if I must walk on pins and needles for it to happen, then I will. I can try to solve the mystery of their behavior after, when I can focus without always having my paper nagging at me in the back of my mind.

The past week has been… interesting, to say the least. Ever since Seven essentially kicked me out, he’s been having the weirdest mood swings. Some days he texts me non-stop, acting like his old self for the most part while other days I won’t hear a thing from him. The car rides have become immensely awkward because of this; he’ll either be teasing me and playfully talking - although with an almost desperate edge to it now, like something has changed but I don’t know what - or he’s sullen and silent. Those days I take the bus home after class.

Saeran hasn’t been avoiding me, per se, but neither does he come up and talk to me...not that he was doing that before. If I make contact he’ll respond, but that’s about it. I can’t help but feel a bit of whiplash between the both of them, like I’m constantly being thrown off-kilter no matter what I do. It seemed like I made such amazing progress with Saeran, but then after Seven interrupted us… now I don’t know where I stand with him.

On Monday Saeran did stop by my desk to give me the sketchbook I’d left at his place; I’d assumed I was borrowing it, but apparently he had every intention of giving it to me. “You have potential,” he’d said as he handed it off to me before heading back to his seat. When I flipped it open, I was shocked to see that he had drawn me standing next to Rika, colored in and everything. I looked… happy. He made me happy in the picture. That struck a chord in my heart, for some reason.

I want to be closer to him. But will I have to sacrifice my relationship with Seven for that?

That’s the question left on my mind as I take the elevator up to their floor, nervously tapping my foot on the ground. Admittedly today may not be the best day on my end for this, since all I can think about is the conflict between the twins and how it affects me. Selfish, I know, I should be more concerned for _their_ relationship but I don’t want to lose my best friend or my new friend. I don’t know why I can’t have both…

The elevator dings and I shift my bag on my shoulder nervously, stepping out and rushing down the hallway to their door. With a resigned sigh, I lift a hand to knock on the wood, eyes closed and ready to be annoyed. When I reach out, I find nothing but air.

What?

Opening my eyes, I flinch immediately upon seeing a hand just inches away from me waving back and forth eagerly. Peering around it I find Seven standing there with the door open, a cheeky grin on his face. His facial expression looks too jovial to be real and there are dark circles under his eyes. Normally playful golden eyes seem empty and almost dead, and his skin is definitely paler than the last time I saw him. Did he not sleep well? Did he get called into work and do another all-nighter, or does this have something to do with… me?

God, I hope it’s not me.

The hand starts waving in an erratic pattern. “Earth to Yoosung. Are you there?” I blink at him and give a small nod; yeah, something’s definitely up. He’s not using his normal obnoxious nicknames. _This isn’t foreboding,_ I try to convince myself as I follow him inside the apartment, shutting the door carefully behind me. _He’s just tired. That’s all it is._

Saeran’s already sitting at the table, bent over and scratching away at a sketchpad fervently. Slightly mussed red hair is falling forward to partly cover his eyes, but the look of concentration upon his face is still unmistakable. I notice that his tongue is just barely visible between his lips again; it must be something he just does when he’s completely absorbed in whatever he’s doing. It’s cute. The sweater he’s wearing is tan and drapes off one shoulder; maybe it’s too big for him? Regardless, it looks like it was made to rest on him that way.

I jump when the sound of fingers snapping bursts in my ear and turn to see Seven watching me with an indiscernible look. “Lost you for a moment,” he says quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. Before I can even question why, he motions me over to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table from Saeran, taking a seat next to his brother. I sit and dig through my backpack, pulling out my binder and a gray voice recorder and setting them on the table.

“No.”

I glance up quickly from where I am flipping through my notebook to try to find the questions to see Seven staring directly at the recorder. “No…?” I question, glancing over at it. It’s just a tool to catch what they say in case I don’t write it down fast enough or I want to go back to make sure I don’t misinterpret something. From what I gather, it’s pretty common to use during proper interviews, so I’d purchased one and brought it with.

“You can’t record this.” Shaking his head, Seven uses a tone that brooks no room for argument.

I argue anyway.

“Why not?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything with it other than listen to it again to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I’m not going to, like, give it to the news or anything.” The very prospect of that makes me snort. “Like the news would be interested in you anyway.”

Saeran actually looks up from his sketching and exchanges a glance with his brother before both pairs of eyes land on me. They way they’re looking at me makes me feel weirdly uncomfortable, and I shift in my chair slightly as I look from one to the other. “I think I agree on this, Yoosung,” he says softly, setting his pencil down carefully. “It would be better not to record this.”

That’s confusing, but whatever. I huff and grab it, shoving it back in my bag before holding my hands up and raising my eyebrows. This is not starting out at all like I planned.

Clearing his throat, Seven leaned forward, folding his hands on the table and looking at me intently. “Look, I know we agreed to this, but I need to lay down a few ground rules before we proceed. Okay?” He gives me a pointed look, waiting for my answer. It’s not like I have much of a choice, so I give him a curt nod. Letting out a sigh, he continues, “first, you can’t ask about our childhood before V. No, Yoosung,” he added on sternly when I opened my mouth to protest, “this is not up for debate. I doubt it would do much to help your paper anyway.”

My back slams against the chair when I throw myself back in frustration. That is actually a _major_ part of it; how one is treated in early childhood is _crucial_ to how well-adjusted they become later in life. Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at him, assuming there’s more to come.

“Second, you can’t ask any detailed questions about Saeran’s time in the gang. It’s still…” Seven pauses, eyes squinted up at the ceiling as he searches for the right term. Saeran beats him to it.

“My time there was very harmful and certain things about it can trigger an anxiety attack or worse,” he says flatly, tilting his head to the side, green eyes piercing through me. The way he says it in combination with the intensity of his look almost make me feel like there’s more that he’s trying to say to me. Maybe… maybe it’s in relation to our friendship?

“I wasn’t planning on asking about anything like that.” I am mostly interested in what _led_ Saeran to join the gang, not his experiences in it. No, wait. I mean, I _am_ interested in that, I’m interested in everything about him, but… it’s not relevant to my paper. “Most of my questions are about childhood experiences and then generic ones about what you guys think is different between you, and maybe some elaboration as to why you think that is.”

It’s quiet for a moment and then Seven sighs again, fingers pushing his glasses up fractionally as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, we won’t answer anything from before age thirteen, so. If your questions can apply to that, then let’s get this over with.”

“Thirteen,” I say bitterly, letting out one small laugh. “That’s… that’s useless to me. I need to know about your experiences before, when you were little. Things that maybe happened to one of you but not the other. Things that shaped who you are because of that.” Seven flinches visibly, casting a guilty glance at Saeran. Saeran is still watching me, a considering look on his face. Of the two of them, I think I have a better chance of getting through to him. “ _Please,_ Saeran,” I plead, turning my focus on him. “You’re in class with me, you know how important this paper is. What can be so… so _terrible_ about your childhood that it has to be kept a secret from _me?”_ He blinks at me slowly, his mouth twitching just the slightest at the question.

I jump when Seven suddenly stands, slamming his palms down on the table. “The. Answer. Is. No,” he growls, biting off the end of every word. “If you are going to keep pushing, then I’m going to need you to _leave.”_

“Wow, twice in two weeks. What a _great_ best friend you are,” I say sarcastically, grabbing my stuff and aggressively cramming it into my bag. “First time you do it because I’m here, hanging out with your brother instead of you on a day _you_ forgot to tell me not to come by. Were you jealous? Was that the problem?” The flash of pain in his eyes tells me I hit the nail dead on. I keep pushing. “Jealous that Saeran got to spend the day with me and you didn’t? Afraid that he’s going to replace you?” Okay, I’m getting mean and I know it. I should… probably reign this in. “Now you tell me that you’ll let me interview you but won’t actually let me do it. You know what, don’t worry about kicking me out. I’ll show myself out the door.” I heft my bag onto my shoulder and stand, carelessly shoving the chair back under the table. I make it about halfway to the door before Saeran speaks quietly.

“Why don’t we just tell him?” I freeze, daring to look back at them. Saeran’s staring down at his hands in his lap, picking at the cuticles anxiously while Seven’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “It’s been ten years, I think we can trust him not to go running off to sell us out to _him.”_ My eyebrows furrow; sell them out?

“That’s not the issue and you know it,” Seven says a bit too roughly. My heart clenches when I see Saeran cringe at his brother’s tone, shrinking into himself a little. “That hasn’t been why I’ve kept him in the dark for a long time now. It’s not because I don’t trust him.” Suddenly he pivots to face me, all anger drained from his face and replaced with a weariness I’ve never seen in him. “That’s not the reason, Yoosung, I swear.” His voice cracks on my name and before I can process what’s happening, he’s closed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. If I wasn’t confused before, I certainly am now.

I feel Seven bury his face into my neck and I slowly raise my arms to hug him, giving Saeran a baffled look that he just averts his eyes from. Wait a minute, I’ve seen that look before; that resignation, where all of the light is gone from him and he wilts - but where?

“I know I’ve kept so much from you,” comes the thick and shaky voice by my ear and I startle; is he crying? “But it’s not because I don’t trust you. _Please_ know that I do. I haven’t told you because if I do, I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe, and I _need_ you to be safe. Do you understand?” I drop my arms as Seven pulls back to look at me, placing both of his hands on my cheeks. There are unshed tears glistening in his eyes as he continues to speak, “I don’t think I could go on if anything happened to you.”

Suddenly there are lips on mine, pressing against my mouth softly as Seven cradles my cheeks gently, pulling me in closer. The kiss doesn’t last long; he withdraws after a few seconds. He doesn’t go far, just enough to search my face for my reaction.

My reaction.

What _is_ my reaction?

I stare into his eyes, golden and so warm, warmer than anything I’ve ever seen before, but I don’t feel… I don’t feel what I think I _should_ feel in a moment like this. My heart isn’t fluttering, my stomach isn’t filled with butterflies, there isn’t a rush of excitement running through my veins, like when… when… _Oh._

I jerk out of Seven’s grasp suddenly, backing up quickly toward the door. “I… I gotta go. I… I’m sorry, I just… I… gotta go.” As soon as I feel my hand hit the doorknob, I turn it and flee, unable to look at Seven’s crestfallen face any longer. I don’t hear the door slam behind me - which means I probably didn’t shut it completely - but I don’t stop as I bypass the elevator to run down the stairs.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._ This is the only thing repeating through my mind as my feet hit the concrete sidewalk outside. How… how did I not notice? How did I not notice that Seven had fallen for me? That he no longer thought of me just as a friend? The signs were all there, neon-green and pointing in big arrows at the obviousness of it. Worse is that _I played into it naively_ , letting him cuddle me and hold my hand, all things I _knew_ friends didn’t usually do.

I need to think. I need some space, some fresh air. There’s a park nearby with a small stream running through it, a place I’ve gone in the past to watch the water as it flows steadily on, through the rocks and under the bridge. It always gives me a sense of peace. I need that right now.

My footsteps sound loud as I run and I feel tears running down my cheeks, but I don’t stop. I’m sure I must look a mess to anyone who sees me but I can’t bring myself to care. Right now there are two things taking up all of my thoughts, churning and twisting throughout my mind in an all-consuming manner.

One, that my best friend is in love with me, and that I don’t feel the same.

Two, that I have developed feelings for Saeran… his twin.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a while before the next update. I need to catch up on a few other things and I'm helping organize a Zine, so I'll be busy for a while. Hopefully I get caught up quickly! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Processing the bombshell(s) and an important discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, sorry for how long it took for me to get this one out! Been busy busy and still am, but the end of May heralds the end of my super busy season (I hope) so! Hold on a little longer ;-;

There’s a river a few miles from the house I grew up in. It splits Seoul roughly in half, winding its way through the city in a manner reminiscent of the constellation of Cassiopeia. We lived on the outskirts in a fairly conservative neighborhood but during the summer, a bunch of kids would get together and go down to play by the water. As I got older, I had less time but if I could, I’d go sit on the bank and listen to the water softly flowing by while I studied or dealt with some choice I thought needed deep thought. It’s always been soothing to me; nature’s natural music, the tune seeping through my pores and into my very being to unwind my nerves, smooth out my tense muscles, collect my scattered thoughts.

So it’s never really a surprise when I end up back at edge of the water when something is troubling me.

It’s not a river this time but a small creek running through a park tucked away behind a bunch of businesses, not all too far from Seven’s place. Shortly after he graduated high school, he moved out here and had me come over to help him get everything set up. That evening, we grabbed some pizza and went on a walk exploring the surrounding area to see if there was anything of interest and, lo and behold, we stumbled onto this hidden oasis of serenity.

I remember sitting on this very bench with him, chattering excitedly about our future and what new secrets it held for us. Of course I was fixated on the idea of finally having the time to date, so I was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to find a girlfriend. Like usual he let me ramble on about it, but when I turned the question around to him he just shrugged and said, “dating isn’t really for me. Besides, who needs a girlfriend when I have the cuddliest best friend in the world~?” I’d rolled my eyes and huffed, not understanding but just assuming he simply hadn’t found the right girl yet to spark his interest.

Of course now I know that wasn’t the case, and that Seven had meant what he’d said. How long had he spent pining for me while I went about my life, completely oblivious? How many times had he joked about being my boyfriend or made comments leaning more toward a romantic relationship that I’d just brushed off as ‘Seven being Seven’? Had he been testing the waters, dipping a toe in to get a feel for whether it was warm enough to fully wade in while I kept him in limbo, playing the part of the will-he-or-won’t-he guy I hate seeing in movies?

Perhaps had he brought up the idea in a more direct manner, he might’ve had more success. Granted I always went on and on about wanting a girlfriend, but I’d never actually entertained the idea of being attracted to men. Planting the seed is most likely all it would have taken to force me into the realization that I’m definitely at least bisexual. Maybe even gay; it’s hard to tell. I’ve never really had many romantic or sexual feelings toward anyone until recently. There were the crushes of a young child, sure, puppy love and all that, but never anything substantial. I used to get asked out all the time in high school and I always turned them down. I didn’t have much time for a relationship but somehow others made it work, so I guess that was just my convenient excuse. The truth is that I never looked at any of those girls and thought, “yeah, I think I’d like to date her.” Never once.

Maybe if Seven had asked, I might have given him a chance. But now… now I can’t imagine being with him.

Not with how I feel toward Saeran.

I’ve been sitting here on this bench for what feels like hours. The sun’s dipping low in the sky, the last rays of daylight starting to fade out between the tree branches and buildings, bathing most of the park in shadow. This is the first time in my life that the constant whooshing and trickling of the water isn’t doing anything to help my mood. I’m no longer crying, but I think it’s because I ran out of tears. My cheeks are dry and crusted with the salt that I never bothered to wipe away, my eyelids heavy and eyes sore. I need to head home if for no other reason than I fear staying here too much longer exposes me to the risk of being found and I’m not in any condition mentally or emotionally to speak to either one of the Choi twins tonight.

A lot of things make sense now, like why any time Saeran stood up for me or when I spent time with him tension appeared between them and me. Seven was jealous and, if I had to guess, afraid Saeran would make a move on me. I may be oblivious but I’m certainly not stupid; if you shock me into noticing my surroundings I can pick up on things rather quickly. I’ve always liked puzzles and this whole situation is suddenly coming together in a picture that makes sense, piece by piece. Saeran’s drawings of me ( _"I draw whatever’s on my mind”_ ) in both his sketchbook and as doodles; the painting he gifted me;  the sketch of him and Seven where he looks utterly defeated while Seven’s staring at someone in awestuck wonder (me) and then him looking _exactly_ like that when Seven stopped me from leaving; his constant avoidance and attempts to drive me away. Saeran _also_ likes me but was trying to stay out of Seven’s way.

I both respect that and despise it. It’s not for them to choose who I end up with, if anyone. Not that I want to drive a wedge in their precarious relationship, but neither of them has the right to dictate what I do with my life in any fashion.

From the outside, it seems like a fairly obvious solution to my issue exists: Saeran likes me, I like Saeran. Get together, kissy-kissy, all better, right? _Wrong_. Somewhere in this entire mess I have to find a way to salvage the friendship I have with Seven. I have to find a way to work past the fact that he kissed me, to completely rewire my brain as to how I act around him, and probably convince him that it’s all okay. That’s potentially a lot of effort, but it’s effort I’m willing to put forth so long as he doesn’t ice me out now. Seven is my best friend, after all; has been for nearly half of my life. I don’t want to lose him just because of some unrequited emotions.

I’m sure that sounds cold since _I’m_ not the one facing said emotions, but if we’ve made it through this long, surely we have to ability to keep going.

The trickiest part is deciding what to do about Saeran. Do I want to keep cultivating a friendship, knowing it’s potentially dangerous when we both yearn for the other? All it would take is one slip-up; one word, one touch, one kiss… and there may be no coming back from that. But neither do I want to suddenly cut all ties with him solely because of my eyes opening to my own well of attraction, since that’s hardly fair on him. I’m a grown man, I can control myself.

The shadows are starting to catch up to me as the light dies out. It’s time to head home. Taking a deep breath, I run my hands through my hair and rub my cheeks with my jacket sleeve, then stand up and walk in the direction of the bus stop.

 

* * *

 

 

I don’t really remember what I did all day Sunday. I know I came home Saturday night and stayed up until well past the dawn playing LOLOL, barely stumbling to bed before crashing, even with the bright beams of the morning sun lighting up my room like a stage. I have some vague memories of getting up and making food before going back to bed, then it’s sort of hazy recollections of LOLOL and crying. It’s entirely possible that is what my day consisted of. I don’t particularly care.

I didn’t bother setting an alarm for Monday morning. I made the (correct) assumption that Seven most likely wouldn’t show his face around me quite yet, and thus slept blissfully through the morning. It’s sometime after noon when I roll out of my bed groggily and shuffle into the kitchen, digging through the cupboards to pull out a pack of ramen noodles and take them with me to the computer desk. Along the way I snag the bottle of water I left out sometime in the early hours, uncaring of the fact that it’s lukewarm. It’ll do. Heaving a sigh, I plop down in the chair I haven’t left for long the past few days, setting the water down on the desk and turning on the monitor to my computer. While I wait for LOLOL to load, I open the ramen and pull out the seasoning packet, setting it aside for in a moment. Crunching dried noodles like this is cathartic in a way, for a reason I have yet to pinpoint. Maybe it’s somehow allowing me to release anger by breaking each long string of wheat flour and salt into smaller bits, or maybe the sound relaxes me. Either way, it’s something I enjoy doing.

The login screen pops up so I pause to type in my username and password, then select a character to play. Faced with another loading screen, I check to see if the noodles are more suitably sized to my needs now. Eh, good enough, so I open the packet and empty about ¼ of the seasoning in, then shake it up to get some of it on the noodles. When done, I have a wonderfully cheap and easy substitute to chips.

Time passes quickly while I absorb myself in a few dungeons, killing off drakes and wyrms and all other types of mythical creatures, occasionally reaching into the bag to grab some of my snack and munch it. The water has a semi-stale taste to it but whatever, it wets my mouth and helps wash the ramen down. I can’t be bothered to find anything else right now, anyway. That would require the use of my brain and I shut that down Saturday night to avoid thinking about things I wanted to pretend didn’t happen. Fantastic coping mechanism, I know.

Some time after my fourth dungeon there’s a knock on my door. I ignore it. I’m not expecting any visitors and I haven’t spoken to any of my classmates today, so there’s no reason for anyone to be dropping by. Whoever it is will likely go away eventually or end up calling; either way I’ll end up being left alone because I don’t have any particular plans to answer my phone.

Mystery person knocks a few more times before giving up, and it’s silent for long enough for me to believe they’ve left. If my computer wasn’t positioned in the living room near the door, I probably would’ve missed the paper he shoved under the door. As it is, I caught it out of the corner of my eye and it is enough to pique my interest. I tell my teammates I need to go AFK for a few minutes to ‘investigate the strange appearance of an unidentified document being forcibly inserted into my home’ - which prompts a lot of inappropriate jokes because of the word ‘inserted’ - and pop off my headphones, crouching down to snag the paper.

In hindsight, I probably should’ve known who it was.

It’s obviously a quick sketch, probably done in the span of time between when the knocking stopped and the paper appeared, and my heart skips a beat to see a mini-Saeran smiling (smiling!) up at me. It’s in comic form, so I follow the next few boxes, but as I reach the end, I’m filled with a dread. The last frame has both of us in it, sitting on a coach with the words “we should talk” floating above our heads.

I suppose that’s one way to get my attention.

Standing back up, I look out the peephole and yeah, there’s Saeran, standing there with his hands shoved in his pocket and staring at the ground, radiating uncomfortableness. My heart twists; I can’t leave him standing out there like that just so I can keep my head buried in the sand like an ostrich. Damn. I card a hand through my apparently greasy hair - fantastic - and unlock the door, opening it slowly. He looks up immediately and wow, the relief that passes over his face combined with the light shining through his eyes knocks the wind right out of me. I step back and motion him inside wordlessly, quietly closing the door once he’s entered. Both the relief and the light are gone when I look back; he’s back to his neutral face. Must be a Choi thing.

“You weren’t in class today,” he says, and normally such a statement would make me bristle at how it’s intrinsically accusational in nature, but the way he says it doesn’t elicit that reaction at all. There’s an undercurrent of worry present in his voice, just enough to make me relax a little. “Is… are you… okay?”

I shrug and turn away, leaning over my desk and typing in that an emergency came up and I have to leave. I’m quickly prompted as to what was on the mysterious document that is so important, but I decline to answer, instead stating I’ll tell them at a later time and apologizing for having to drop out on them. Without waiting for an answer, I log off and close out of the game. There, at least one part of my life can still be expected to do as I think it should.

Grabbing my water, I move to sit on the couch as well, bringing my legs up to my chest and hugging them. Now that I’m being forced to face the situation, I’m craving some warmth and cuddles I have no access to, so I’ll do what I can to fake it.

“Yoosung…” Saeran trails off, and when I look over at him I notice his fingers twitching on his pants in a rather odd fashion for him. Instead of their normal tap-tap-tap they usually do, it seems like they’re attempting to reach out for something. “We’ve been worried about you.”

I snort in response before I fully realize what I’m doing. Ah, well, it’s how I feel anyway. “‘We?’” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “As in, both you and Seven? Yet neither of you reached out to me until now, and it’s just you, not him. Hmph.” I turn away, resting my chin on my knees as I stare straight forward. “I think he forfeits the right to be in on the ‘we’ if he’s not here.”

“He doesn’t know if he’s welcome,” Saeran answers. “I think… I think he thinks you hate him now.”

“What!?” I snap my head back around to look at Saeran in disbelief. “He thinks that what, a decade of friendship is something I’d just, just throw away over one k...ki…” Swallowing, I push past my discomfort of the word. “Kiss? I mean, am I upset that _that’s_ when he chose to reveal how he felt? Yeah. Does it make me feel a little awkward? Yeah. But do I _hate_ him? Of course not.” My voice softens and I tighten my arms. “He’s my best friend. As long as he’s okay with still being that and _only_ that, I don’t have a problem with him. I mean, I love him… just not in the way he apparently loves me.”

Whew. That was a lot more than I intended to say, and obviously more than Saeran was expecting to hear, judging from the slightly surprised look on his face. Sighing, I place my palm over my face and groan, frustrated that I can never seem to translate my thoughts into words accurately and gracefully. What a talent that must be to have.

“So you don’t… love him?”

Peeking through my fingers, I see that Saeran’s back to having the blank look on his face minus some hope hidden in the green of his eyes. I… suppose it makes sense for him to pick up on that, if my assessment of his feelings is correct. “Not romantically, no,” I confirm quietly. “He’s not… he’s not what I’m… what I… he’s not my type.” Definitely not graceful.

Saeran cocks his head to the side, his fingers moving up to play with the hem of his shirt. “You have a type?” I squint at him, trying to decipher his particular tone; it sounds serious but almost in a dry humor way. Have I… ever heard him joke? Thinking back, I’m not sure I have. Could this be it?

“Definitely have a type,” I confirm, deciding to play it safe. Not that I’m feeling particularly inclined to share what the type is, since all I’d be doing is laying out sign after sign pointing straight to Saeran, and that’s an added complication I don’t want or need right now. “And it’s not the golden-eyed mysterious prankster type. Except for a best friend. That type makes a wonderful best friend for me.”

The corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile and another flash of relief flits across his face. I’m doing my best to be observant and it’s paying off; I’m about 99% certain of my theory now. Not that I know what to do with that information, but there it is. I can always refer to it later if I need.

Something hits me suddenly, something that I hadn’t thought of when Saeran first showed up and that could potentially make me angry. “Did he… did he send you as a, um. A… mediator?”

Saeran shakes his head. “No. I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” A blush appears on his cheeks as soon as he admits that and he ducks his head and looks away, like he’s trying to hide it. I feel my mouth turn up. _That’s cute._

“I’m fine. Just sulking, I guess, because I don’t know what to do.” I let my smile turn slightly bitter and cynical. “Real mature of me, I know. Hide from the problem instead of face it. But I’ve never been good at confronting things.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, I wouldn’t know what to do if I was kissed randomly like that, either.” Still gazing at the ground, he shrugs. “Plus, you guys had just been arguing, and I just… I dunno.”

“You were worried for me,” I say, a feeling of happiness bubbling up inside of me. Saeran cares enough to want to check in on me.

Shaking his hair so that it further covers his face, he angles himself just slightly away from me. “No, I wasn’t,” he grumbles, but even with him trying to hide it, I can see the smile attempting to break loose.

“You were,” I say again, freely teasing this time. I scoot a little closer and poke his arm lightly. “You stopped by to check in on me because you care about me.”

“Stop.” He bats at my hand, but the smile is definitely there now. “Don’t ruin my image by making me look like someone who gives a shit about others.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Your image? You’re concerned about your image, huh? Well, then you probably shouldn’t choose a nerdy gamer like me to be your friend, you know.”

His body tenses instantly and for a second I think I took it too far. We’d never officially said anything about being friends and I tend to rush into things without bothering to check to make sure everything’s right, so maybe I’d taken his intentions wrong. But then he softens and looks back at me, his face raw with emotion. “I’m your… friend?” he asks cautiously, chewing on his lip.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I laugh and shake my head. “You’re silly, Saeran. Of _course_ you’re my friend. As long as you want to be, that is.”

“But...” He looks down at his lap, picking at his cuticles. The black paint is nearly gone by now; I vaguely wonder how often he paints his fingers and how often he peels off the paint from anxiety. “But what about my brother?” he whispers.

“What about him?” I drop my legs to the ground and sit up straight, placing a hand tentatively on Saeran’s shoulder. “Just because he has… feelings for me doesn’t mean that you and I can’t be friends. I’m allowed to be friends with whoever I want. Besides, shouldn’t he be happy that his best friend and his brother get along?” Unless he’s worried about said brother somehow riding off into the sunset with his best friend, but that’s not the point right now.

“I… guess,” Saeran answers, eyebrows knitting together as he looks at me in confusion. “That makes sense, but… are you sure? I mean, I’m not… I’m not really a good person.”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly, squeezing his shoulder. “And let me decide whether or not I think you’re a good person, okay?”

That light inside of him turns on, and the smile he gives me sends a thrill through my body, warmth spreading to every inch of me. “Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung goes to the Chois' apartment only to be surprised once more.

Cookies.

My go-to ‘I’m sorry’ gift is a large batch of homemade cookies, baked with love and… chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate, right? Seven does, I know that much for certain. Maybe not as much as his Honey Buddha Chips, but I don’t have good luck getting my hands on those. There’s also the fact that he seems to have an endless supply somehow but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I am currently suffering the self-inflicted punishment of climbing the stairs to his apartment with a tupperware of cookies in tow to make my apologies for running away and ignoring him.

It’s only taken me what, just over two weeks? But it’s a  _ little _ hard to face your best friend after finding out he’s in love with you, so I like to think that gives me some wiggle room.

Maybe not. But I’m here now.

The first clue that something is wrong is that the security system doesn’t spring to life the moment I approach the door. I stare at the box, waiting for it to spout its ridiculous questions at me, but all I see is an unassuming little black cube. No blinking light, no high-pitched, robotic voice. It’s incredibly disconcerting considering it’s been a consistent part of my life since Seven moved into this place.

The second clue is that the door is opened as soon as my knuckles connect with the wood, swinging inward to reveal a wide-eyed Seven staring at me in mild alarm. He doesn't look good; his hair is messier than normal and carries a sheen that makes me think it's been awhile since he's showered, he has darker-than-usual bags under his eyes and an alarming pallor to his skin. “Yoosung?” he says in disbelief, appearing to be frozen in place as he looks at me like I’m the ghost of Christmas past. Or, more likely, the ghost of friendships past.

“H-hey, Seven!” My voice is shakier than I’d like but I was nervous  _ before _ arriving here to find things already so... different. Wrong. Holding up the plate before me like the peace offering it truly is, I manage to force a weak smile. “Cookies?” 

For a second his eyes slide from me to the plate and realization dawns on his face. I’m predictable, I know that and in this moment I’m more than okay with it. The plate rises a little higher between us and I bite my lip, already fighting back the tears from my mind telling me it’s too late, the tie between us has been snipped and it’s irreparable. When those familiar golden eyes finally snap back to me he completely bypasses the cookies and pulls me into a hug, the plate suddenly squished uncomfortably between our stomachs as he backs us into the apartment and shuts the door.

“I thought I’d lost you.” Quiet, nearly a whisper but packed full of emotion, Seven’s voice is painfully raw. A tug on my hands pulls my attention away just long enough to catch Saeran trying to take the plate, my eyes widening at what I see but he just shakes his head and points at his brother. Yes, of course. He’s simply trying to help us mend the bond between us right now. Once the cookies have been moved and my hands are free I wrap them around Seven to return the hug. 

“I’m not so easy to get rid of,” I respond, choked up with my own relief and joy. “One kiss won’t scare me away forever. You’ll have to do worse than that.”

My statement drags a chuckle out of him and I smile for the first time in days, burying my head in his shoulder when he squeezes me tighter. “Don’t say it like that or I may be tempted to see just how forgiving Superman Yoosung can be.” 

That challenge causes me to groan and roll my eyes, but I’m still grinning; this is familiar, this is the start of the road back to normal. “That wouldn’t be one of your better ideas, genius.” If any of Seven’s idea can really be deemed better. That’s debatable at times.

“Probably not, no.” With another soft laugh, Seven moves his hands to my shoulders and pushes me just far enough back to get a proper look at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Wow, he really  _ was _ worried about this, wasn’t he? And here I’d been operating under the assumption that since he hadn’t really reached out, maybe our friendship meant more to me than to him. It’s nice to see my own desperation mirrored in his eyes. He scans my face, clucking his tongue at my own dark circles. “Still a cutie, but a cutie who needs to sleep more.” 

“You’re one to talk,” I grumble. As if he has any room to talk to me about getting more rest.

Seven shrugs, letting go of me completely and running a hand through his hair. “I… signed up for a life without sleep when I took the job I have. But  _ you _ didn’t. You have school and something important to do with your life. You’ll make a fantastic vet one day, Yoosung. Your future is so bright.” 

I’m not keen on the way Seven’s speaking right now. It almost sounds as if… “Are you leaving?” I blurt out, flicking my eyes over to the duffle bags sitting by the door. “Is that why the security lady didn’t ask me questions?  _ Is it? _ ” I ask a little more forcefully when he snickers at my description of his creation. “Were you planning on disappearing without so much as a  _ goodbye?!” _

Seven slumps instantly at my accusation, his hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie as his gaze lowers to the ground. Rage starts to course through my veins, my hands clenching into fists by my side as I start to tremble. “Even if I had decided I wanted nothing to do with you,” I begin icily, my voice sharp and unforgiving, “The least you could’ve done would’ve been to let me know you were  _ running away _ in case I, oh, I dunno, wanted to search you out in the future?” Visibly flinching, Seven steps to the side, still not looking up at me. 

“What would you want me to tell you?” he asks hoarsely, exhaling heavily. “I can’t tell you where I’m going or what I’m doing. I accepted a mission for work that I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for. What would you have me say? I won’t lie to you.” When he finally looks back at me his gaze is piercing, like he’s staring straight into my soul. “Not anymore,” he whispers, walking forward and picking up his bags. That’s when I notice Saeran had tucked the cookies in the side pocket of one of them so that Seven would be taking them with him. Despite my irritation, that brings a short-lived smile to my lips; more confirmation that boy is not nearly as hard as he wants everyone to believe. 

“W-wait!” I call out as Seven grasps the doorknob, turning back to me with sad eyes. I rush forward and throw my arms around him once more; angry or not, I won’t let him leave without one last hug, especially when I have no clue when I’ll see or hear from him again. “Can you at least promise me you’ll stay safe?” There’s no stopping the tears this time when they flow freely down my cheeks.

His breath audible catches in his throat and he shakes his head slowly. “No, I… I can’t promise that. But I will try to be safe, okay?”

“Okay.” It’s not like I have much of an alternative to my whispered response; even if I wanted to argue, what good would it do? He’s leaving on a likely dangerous mission and all I can do is hope that he’ll come back to us, alive and in one piece. Dropping my arms to my side, I watch him open the door and step outside.

“Hey Yoosung?” he says softly, head turned to look down the hall instead of at me. “Watch out for Saeran while I’m gone, okay? He’ll need a friend like you around.” Without waiting for an answer he pulls the door shut behind him. That’s it. He’s gone. Seven’s gone and I don’t know when or even if I’ll ever see him again.

This was  _ not _ how I thought today would go.

“Are you okay?”

With a muffled noise of surprise, I jump and spin around just in time to catch the amused look flitting across Saeran’s face. My eyes drift upwards, taking in the pink tips bleeding into white locks of hair that have replaced the fiery red I am used to. “No, but I will be,” I say slowly, truthfully before finally asking what’s been bouncing off the walls of my mind since I first saw him earlier: “did you bleach your hair?”

His eyes widen and a hand comes up to it almost instinctively, tugging on some of the strands before smiling sheepishly at me. “Yeah, I did. I forgot about it. What do you think?” It takes me by surprise how unsure he sounds when he asks that question, almost like he’s actively seeking my approval.

Wiping away my tears with the back of my hand, I allow myself a moment to observe the change carefully. Different,  _ very _ different, and from what I understand similar - if not identical - to how he wore his hair while he was still in the gang, but… it looks  _ good _ on him.  _ Really _ good, honestly. “I like it,” I answer honestly, tilting my head to the side and smiling.

It’s obvious how relieved he is by the way he relaxes his shoulders and lets out a soft puff of air. “Cool. I, uh, I’m thinking of going back to my… my style. My ther…” he pauses, looking like he’s going to choke on the word, “ _ therapist _ thinks it’s a good step toward healing for me even though Luciel doesn’t really agree.”

I can understand Seven’s hesitation if the ‘style’ Saeran is talking about is one he associates with the troubled Saeran of the past, but as far as I know, clothes don’t change a person’s behavior; the person themself does. So if Saeran wants to start dressing how he used to, it shouldn’t be an issue… I don’t think?

“Like what?” I ask, genuinely curious. I never saw Saeran during that entire period of time since he’d stopped hanging out with us and we went to different schools. I only have second-hand descriptions and vague answers out of V to go off of, and even then they were mostly describing him as “biker” or “punk,” both of which are vastly unhelpful and can point to a lot of different things.

Saeran shifts on his feet a moment before giving me a searching look, like he’s testing me without me knowing what the subject is. Then, without any warning, he whips his sweater off to reveal a dark red tank top underneath. “I  _ used _ to wear tops like this with athletic pants,” he says, laughing quietly and shaking his head. “God, it’s obvious I was on drugs if I thought that looked good. But this time I’m gonna wear my black skinny jeans with dark colored shirts, I think. Probably not all black because I like variety. Oh, and I’ll go back to wearing my choker.” 

“Uh huh…” I nod, cheeks flushing. I’m barely listening to what he’s saying, far too entranced by the fact that he looks beyond hot as he is right now, those jeans hugging his legs and the shirt showing off his collarbone and his arms and… damn, I need to get a hold on myself before I start drooling. This is bad. I was already having troubles figuring out how I’m going to hide my feelings around him but now we have to add this on top of it? Not that I didn’t think he was hot before, because I certainly did but… I think I might have found a niche I was not aware existed for me.

“I’m thinking of getting pierced too,” Saeran continues, smirking at me in a manner that lets me know he knows  _ exactly _ what I’m thinking. Crap. I tear my eyes away and bite my lip, feeling my face grow even warmer. “Definitely my lip and tongue, but maybe some other places too. Not sure, depends how much it costs.”

That causes me to frown and force my gaze back to him. “How much it costs?” I ask in confusion; doesn’t Seven have a ton of money that Saeran can just use? Surely it doesn’t cost an exorbitant amount of won to get piercings…

“Yup. I start my job next week and so I’ll be trying to support myself as much as I can. I need to be self-sustaining eventually, after all.” 

“Yeah, eventually… but why the rush? You’re still in school, and don’t art classes get really hard later?” Granted, a lot of majors do - mine included - but I’ve seen my fair share of art students running around looking like they get a max of 3-4 hours of sleep each night, constantly busy and trying to finish homework. How can someone have a job on top of something like that?

Saeran shrugs, leaning against the back of the couch. “Yeah, probably. I’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now I want to at least  _ think _ I contribute.” He sighs, tugging on his hair. “You… probably wouldn’t understand. I was out on my own for  _ years _ . No, I wasn’t in a good place but it sucks going from being more or less independent to having someone else be responsible for you. I just want to feel like a functioning adult again. To be able to say ‘yeah, this is me, I paid for the clothes on my back and the needles that pierced my skin.’”

Furrowing my brows, I nod slowly. “I… I guess that makes sense. Sort of like if I had to move back in with my parents and have them take over my life again?”

Chuckling, Saeran nods. “Yeah, I suppose it could be something like that. Anyway. Since you’re here, I thought you might like to know. Luciel and I talked about it and decided to trust you with the story of our childhood. If you still want to hear it, that is.” I open my mouth to respond but he holds up his hand, all humor gone from his demeanor. “It’s not… you’re not going to like it, Yoosung. And you still can’t use a lot of it in the paper. Maybe… maybe generic bits and pieces but we’re sharing this because we want  _ you _ to know, not to help with your psychology grade. Got it?”

There’s a part of me that thinks maybe I should be mad that this still comes with constraints, but I’m not. I’m relieved; relieved they’re finally trusting me with this information. I’m also trepidatious from the multiple warnings I’ve received. What did the twins go through to keep it hidden from everyone?

As Saeran beckons me to sit on the couch and disappears a minute to grab us drinks, it hits me that I’m about to find out.

For better or worse.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood tales~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> This is fairly similar to the twins' childhood in story with a few differences. SO warning for mentioned abuse, drug use, alcohol use, murder.

I don’t know what exactly I was expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t _this._

Saeran sits fidgeting in front of me, hands tugging on the newly bleached hair and eyes cast downward. I want to reach out to him, to touch his arm or hug him or _something,_ but I’m not sure if anything I can do will help. If I had known recounting the past would affect him this negatively, I would have told him to wait, that I could have Seven tell me when (if) **when** he gets back. It started out relatively okay, with him just looking a little sad and forlorn as he told me that they were unwanted twins born from an affair between a fairly high-ranking, _married_ politician and a member of his staff who was smitten with him. I’d quickly gathered how nasty that could get - bastard children are a huge scandal here - but I still hadn’t expected it go to as far as it had.

Spurned by her lover and forced out of the workforce, their mother decided to use the twins as a bargaining chip to guarantee a monthly stipend to ‘take care of them with.’

Rather than actually take care of them, she opted to buy alcohol and drugs to numb her pain. When that didn’t work, she took out her anger on them.

“Both of us were tied up most of the time when we were really little,” Saeran says quietly, hands now fully buried in his hair. “She put rope around our ankles and tied us to our beds. We could move through our room mostly but that was it. Our meals were scraps of bread and water and we learned quickly never to talk back or make noise. _Especially_ if she had a hangover or was going through withdraw. Those days were the worst.” He pauses briefly, pulling in a shaky breath. Unable to hold back any longer, I carefully lay a hand on his knee, rubbing my thumb gently across the rough denim covering his thigh. A myriad of emotions pass over his face but he settles on surprise, staring at my hand before lowering one of his own to hover over it as he clearly debates what to do. Biting my lip, I flip my hand over so the palm is facing up invitingly, and when he finally lowers his onto mine my heart skips a beat. I raise my eyes and catch him looking at me closely, scrutinizing my face. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but I slowly twine our fingers together, feeling like my heart is about to slam its way right out of my ribcage. He doesn’t pull away.

After another few moments of just watching each other, Saeran heaves a sigh and continues his story. “She… she beat us, but it was always worse for me. I don’t know why, what she saw in me at the time that made her decide to target me but Sae… Luciel hardly ever got the brunt of it. And when she started to be unable to go out on her errands, she untied _him_ and made him go instead.” I squeeze his hand and he jumps slightly, as though perhaps he'd forgotten we're holding hands. Before he’d sat down he’d opened the window in the living room, allowing the bright sunlight to stream in and bathe the room in golden rays. Now he turns his face to look out it, pain etched in his features. “I only ever got to see the outside from the tiny window in our room. I always admired the sky; the bright blue, the fluffy clouds… I used to dream that I could climb on them and ride away from the hell I was stuck in.”

The image makes me smile, albeit a little sadly; young Saeran, laying on a cloud happily as it took him wherever he wanted to go, like a king of the sky. Too bad dreams like that never become reality.

“So how’d you end up getting out?” I ask softly, both curious and worried. I know this story is in the past, that it’s done with and nothing can happen to influence the outcome anymore but I’m so caught up in it that my worry has completely overtaken me.

Saeran chews on his lip, still gazing out the window. I scoot a little closer to him, wanting to provide more comfort if I can. It’s dangerous, holding his hand and allowing myself to tread the line between what’s acceptable between friends and what’s not but it’s not exactly as though either of us are likely to develop feelings beyond what we already have. So it’s okay, right?

“Luciel snuck me out one day to get ice cream and let me look at the clouds.” Unlike the other memories, this one is a happy one judging from the way he sighs and the soft smile that flits across his face. “Best day of my life. I could’nt believe how many other colors there were; the greens of the trees, the grass… the different cars driving by… and the _noises_. It was a little overwhelming at first, honestly.” He looks at me and inches closer as well. Maybe he desires comfort as much as I want to give it. “But I loved every moment of it. That’s when Luciel introduced me to V and your cousin, too.”

“Rika?” I sit up in excitement, even more invested than before. I hadn’t known she’d played any part in their lives before I met them.

Nodding, Saeran smiles again. “Yeah. They’d been talking to Luciel about a way to get us out of the house, starting with getting us into school. Nothing had been set in stone yet, but they were plotting. I was too shy to say anything, but they were still nice to me.” Suddenly his frown falters and his face becomes stormy. Before I realize what my body's doing, my hand is resting on his cheek, the skin warm beneath my palm. Saeran looks at me with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“O-oh… sorry,” I stutter in shock, retracting my hand to my side and dropping my eyes. God. What am I doing?

“It’s… okay.” His voice is filled with emotion, but there’s no way to tell if it’s from the story, my touch or both. A pregnant pause ensues while I consider if I should also take back my other hand. I don’t want to make our friendship harder…

Clearing his throat, Saeran taps my chin once and I look up to see him smirking. “It’s really okay, Yoosung. I don’t mind.” Unsure what to say in response, I just nod. His eyes flutter closed and he takes another deep breath, then picks up where he left off. “When Luciel said it was time to go home, I didn’t want to. I begged him to just run away, arguing that we could probably live better on the streets than at home. But for some reason he was against it, insisting we needed to go back for just a little longer. A little longer and he’d get us out for good. Turns out whatever they’d been planning didn’t even have a chance to happen.”

“We knew something was wrong when we saw the police cars lining the driveway. Luciel dragged me to a hiding spot he’d found during one of his trips out and we watched as they carried her to the ambulance. Dead on arrival, apparently. We thought maybe she’d overdosed finally, but later he hacked into the police reports and found out she was murdered.”

“Oh my god!” My hand claps over my mouth as I gasp, eyes widening. Murdered? “Was it…?”

“Our dad?” Saeran’s lip curls and he tenses, shoulders stiffening. “We think so, yeah. Probably meant to get us too. Three mistakes all erased at once. Too bad for him we weren’t there.”

Everything’s falling into place. I knew V’s parents were more or less absent, especially by the time he was in high school. A big house all to himself? “And V took you guys in.”

Saeran nods. “Without a second thought. He said if his parents ever noticed us, he’d just say we’re friends staying for a while. But they never did. And you know what? It was nice. We had clothes, food, could go to school… and I still fucked it all up.” A bitter laugh escapes him, free hand tangled in his hair once more. “But there you have it. Our childhood in all its glory.”

“He really _was_ worried for my safety…” I mumble, other things starting to click as well. Why Seven didn’t tell me about it, why I never saw pictures of them as children… “Is Choi really your surname?”

“Nah. V chose it for us.” Saeran shrugs, looking down. “Safer this way. Less likely he’ll find us, but now you know why we can’t just tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry, Saeran. I’m so, so sorry.”

The look he gives me is pure confusion. “For what?”

“That you had to go through that. That’s… that’s awful. No one should ever have to deal with that sort of childhood.” I swallow past the lump in my throat and decide to just go for it, lunging forward and throwing my arms around him. For a second he’s still, frozen and I think maybe I pushed it too far before his arms creep around me and hold me tight against him. “I’m so glad you got out, though. I wish… I wish I could’ve helped you.”

The laugh is a surprise, as is the wetness behind it that indicates he’s probably close to crying as well. “You did, Yoosung. You were the first kid to offer to be our friend. Do you have any idea what that meant? How special you were?” Dropping to a whisper, his voice shakes when he says, “how special you _are?”_

My breathing quickens and I can feel my heart slamming against my ribcage violently. Can Saeran feel it, I wonder? I can’t fight back the tears any longer as they start to drip down my cheeks and I let out a sob. “I… I didn’t do anything special. I just… god.”

His hands slip off my back and for a second I mourn the loss of them, preparing to be shoved away as he pulls back. Instead they land on my cheeks, pulling me up to look straight into those beautiful green eyes. “You’ve done more for me, for _us,_ than we could ever say. There’s a reason Luciel fell in love with you, Yoosung.” Wiping away my tears with his thumbs, Saeran’s eyes never stray from mine and the intensity in them rips my breath away from me.

“Wh...what about you?” I dare to ask, biting my lip. “You hated me when we were kids. You wanted nothing to do with me. I thought maybe you were jealous that I was taking his attention from you..”

He laughs again, but this time it’s soft, amused. “Hated you? That couldn’t be further from the truth.” There’s a moment of silence as he visibly steels himself for whatever he’s about to say and my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation. “Don’t you see, Yoosung? I was jealous, yes, but not jealous of you. I was jealous of Luciel for getting so close to you so fast, for becoming your best friend.”

“Saeran…” I breathe, mind whirring at what he’s saying. Our past, the interpretation I had of his actions… I was wrong, and Seven never once bothered to correct me. Had he always known how Saeran felt and selfishly kept me in the dark? Has this always been an issue between them, or...

My thoughts grind to a halt when I feel Saeran’s chapped, bitten lips touch softly against mine. Eyes fluttering closed, I don’t hesitate at all with this kiss. No, this time I kiss back with everything I have.


	12. Chapter 12

It's so much better than I ever could have thought. All the times I daydreamed about my first kiss never came close to how it actually feels in reality. Seven’s kiss was nothing compared to this.

Sure, the base is the same, a pair of lips pressed against mine, but the fact that those lips belong to _Saeran_ makes it a whole different equation. Suddenly I'm on fire, butterflies fluttering madly in my stomach as I drink in the way it feels to have him so close. Excitement thrums through my veins, warmed by his palms against my cheeks. It starts out hesitant, as if he's afraid of how I'll react. I suppose I would be too, in his position.

It feels eerily natural for my hands to land on his shoulders, his bare skin sending a current of electricity jolting through me. I press back eagerly, eyes squeezed shut and as nervous as a high schooler working up the courage to confess to his crush. It's a little awkward because I have no idea what to do, but I don't care. This is actually happening. I'm actually kissing Saeran.

A soft whine involuntarily slips from me when he pulls back; not far, just enough for me to glimpse the surprise in those beautiful eyes before his lips are on mine again. A different emotion is emanating from him now; a sort of relieved hunger, and the way he starts to kiss me feels like he's been starving for this, for _me_ , far longer than I can fathom. My own need has me so thirsty for him, like he’s water, so when his hands slide down, one gripping my waist and the other settling on my lower back, I go easily as he pulls me closer. This is so natural, so right. How did it take me so long to see this?

For a while there's no sounds except for the occasional bird chirping, the quiet rustling of my clothing against his and the soft smacking of our lips. It's almost as though we're in our own world, a place where we can admit our feelings for each other and kiss, maybe even be in a relationship without hurting anyone else. It's a lovely fantasy, one I wonder if he's indulging in as well as I slide my hands down his back, feeling the ripple of his shoulders when he tugs me even closer. My hip is pressed to his and my legs have tangled between his; any closer and I'll be in his lap. The thought of that sends my heart racing even faster. What would it be like, to sit in Saeran’s lap? Would he gently hold me close to him or would he be demanding, letting me know exactly what he wants?

The wet swipe of tongue catches me off-guard and I gasp, giving him an opening to carefully slide his in, exploring my mouth slowly. Such a foreign sensation, something moving and licking that’s not a part of me, but god, I love it. I gingerly touch my tongue to his, pulling a groan from deep in his throat. The hand on my waist flexes and moves to my thigh, gripping it tightly before slowly moving it so one of my legs rests over his lap. This is fast. From first real kiss to making out to… whatever we seem to be careening toward. A soft alarm is ringing in the back of my mind but my thoughts are too hazy to focus on it, to figure out what’s causing it to go off. I just want to keep kissing Saeran, to feel more of him against me.

_“ALL ABOARD! HA HA HA HA!”_

The shout startles both of us into springing apart, my eyes wide as I meet his panicked ones, both of us glancing at the door. But no, Seven’s rendition of Crazy Train isn’t coming from there; it’s coming from my pocket.

_“Ay ay ay!”_

I smile sheepishly at Saeran as I pull out my phone, confused as to why Seven’s calling me when he left not that long ago. The guitar continues loudly a second before I finally pick up, trying to disguise my jagged breaths as I answer. “H-hello?”

“Yoosungie! What a delight to hear that cute little voice of yours~”

Of course he’s going to be irritating at first. I cast a glance at Saeran to see him leaning forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Is he okay? Frowning, I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “What is it, Seven?”

“Now is that any way to speak to your bestie? I! Don’t! Think! So!” He pauses for a moment on the other end of the line. “Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been running or something.”

“I’m f-fine!” Not my most convincing moment, but the last thing I was expecting was to be interrogated immediately after having a make-out session interrupted.

“Don’t lie to me~” The sing-song voice only serves to frustrate me more, but before I can say anything, Seven plows forward. “I just called to say thanks for the cookies! They’re absolutely delicious and I may eat them all on the train.”

“Please don’t make yourself sick.” Irritating or not, he is still my best friend and I do care for him deeply. “Maybe save some for when you get wherever you're going?”

“Good idea. Let me think about it. ...nah. Anyway! That’s all I wanted. Take good care of my baby bro and I’ll talk to you later!” _Click._

I stare at the screen, flabbergasted. What an odd thing to call me about. Not that it’s out of the realm of normal for Seven, but I certainly wasn’t expecting it. And the timing could’ve been better. I shove it back in my pocket and turn back to Saeran. He hasn’t moved, except to possibly scoot away from me. Or did I move when I answered my phone…?

The air feels different than it did moments ago; it’s still heavy but not with the charged electricity that had been sparking between us. There’s something else there and I’m pretty sure I know what it is, because it’s a mirror for the emotion rapidly spreading through me now that I’m reflecting on what just happened. Oh god, what did we just do?

“Saeran?” I ask softly, reaching out a hand to touch his back before thinking better of it. Retracting it, I chew on my lip and wait a moment to see if he responds. He doesn’t. “Saeran, a-are you okay?”

The hands he’s hiding behind move to tangle in his hair and I can see his face, the conflicted expression written in every line. So he’s feeling the same thing I am, probably. The desire to pick up where we left off, to go back to that fantasy world but knowing that we can’t, shouldn’t, because neither of us want to hurt _him._ “We can’t do that again,” he finally says, his voice far more icy than I’ve heard in a long time. “Fuck.” The arm of the sofa squeaks in complaint as he uses it to help him stand, avoiding looking at me even as he turns my direction. “Never. Got it?”

“I-I…” Every word I want to speak dies in my throat as I look at him, the overwhelming feeling of rejection rising to displace everything else. I know why he’s saying that, I understand and it’s _fine_ , so why does my heart beat so rebelliously in protest?

“Go home, Yoosung.” Saeran turns to start walking away, slumped over and looking defeated, like a wilted flower unable to get any of the fresh spring rain it needs. I can’t stand seeing him like that.

He can't seem to get rid of me fast enough now. Like he's done with me... oh, god. My brain kicks into overdrive as another thought occurs to me and I jump to my feet, panicked. “W-wait!” I call out, walking after him when he doesn’t stop. “Saeran! Wait a minute, please!”

His expression is guarded when he faces me again, a fact that drives a stake through my heart. God, I hope this didn’t just force us back to square one. I don’t want to go back to a time when we aren't friends. “What is it?” he asks in a monotone, something I’ve learned is a defense mechanism of his; act uninterested so no one thinks you care.

But I’m not going to fall for it.

“Don’t just leave it like that,” I beg. I can hear how desperate I sound, but it’s fine. Unlike him, I don’t want to act like I don’t care. I want him to know _exactly_ how much I do, because it’s the only way he’ll know that I’m not faking it. “I-I know we can’t… do that again, o-okay? But don’t act like… like that’s the end! We can still be friends, right? _Right?”_ I become more fearful when his look turns doubtful. All the hope I have starts to slowly disintigrate. No no no no no, this can’t be happening, please, don’t let this be happening right now.

“Can you really be friends with someone you kissed like that?” he asks after what feels like forever. It’s obvious there’s more to that sentence that what he says, but the unspoken is likely something to do with if he can or not and I can’t answer that.

“I can try! Please. Don’t shut me out. I… I can live with us being friends. Just don’t leave me. Please.” I can’t lose both him and Seven in the same day. I can’t. I’ll wither away and perish without either of my best friends. 

“...fine. I’ll try. But no promises, alright?”

I nod fervently. “Okay, that’s fine, thank you, thank you so much, Saeran.”

He turns back around. “Now please, go home. I need… I need some time alone.”

Yeah. Time alone is probably something we both need right now, even if I don’t want it. With a sigh, I grab my bag and head out the door. As amazing as that kiss was, I’d take it back in a heartbeat if it meant saving my friendship with Saeran. I just hope it’s not too late.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, long delay. I’ve been trying to pick off my long-fics one by one and been suffering a lack of motivation/creativity so... yikes.
> 
> Anyway, this is the one that I’m on now so hopefully!!! We can keep moving. 
> 
> Thanks for waiting!

A few weeks pass after that day where we don’t see each other outside of small glimpses in class or on campus. It’s impossible to decipher if he’s avoiding me or just busy because we’re in the latter half in the semester by now and work is starting to pile on like crazy. Then again, maybe I’m also avoiding _him_ ; I’m not setting out with that in mind but with how complicated and conflicted I feel, it’s completely possible that I’m doing it unconsciously. It’s a possibility I can’t disregard.

But it’s also something I can’t let continue.

The fact that I’ve now kissed both of the twins weighs heavily on my mind, even if I only responded to one. It feels like a betrayal in some way, like maybe I don’t deserve to have kissed either because I’m a shitty friend to both. I mean, what kind of person makes out with their best friend of ten years’ brother after finding out he’s had feelings for him all this time? Not a good one, that’s for sure. Seven’s done so much for me and this is how I repay him? No. I feel dirty, gross. Like a cockroach that shouldn’t even exist.

Still. That doesn’t mean I should let the new friendship between myself and Saeran deteriorate from one kiss. Outside of the fact that I do genuinely enjoy his company, I’d told Seven I would keep an eye on him. That’s not going to happen much from afar, so… I should just suck it up and talk to him. Which is easier said than done when I feel like my fight or flight response kicks in the moment I even consider approaching him.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

My lucky break comes the last week of November when our next paper is assigned. It’s a pick-your-own partner one, so I immediately get up and march to Saeran’s desk when class is dismissed. Better to get it out of the way sooner, plus there’s less of a chance of him already having a partner.

I don’t even fully come to a stop before he’s speaking.

“Yes.” Still packing up his own items, Saeran glances up at me from underneath loose white locks with a quirked eyebrow, almost challenging me with his look.

It takes a few moments for my brain to catch up to everything. “You… how did you know I was going to…?”

“Ask to be partners?” The chair squeaks when he stands, tossing his backpack over his shoulder with a smug smirk. “Because you’re predictable. And why else would you come over here? Not like we’ve been best buddies lately.”

Two little black balls sit beneath his lower lip, new since the last time I’d seen him up close. Snakebites. They look… well, really hot, honestly, and it’s difficult to drag my eyes up his face to meet his gaze. Heat gathers in my cheeks at the knowing look he has and I quickly turn away, clearing my throat and laughing awkwardly. “Ahaha… yeah, right. Makes sense when you say it like that.”

There’s a pregnant pause of awkward silence before Saeran jerks his head toward the door, turning to walk without another word. I trot behind him, unsure why he seems to want me to follow but not necessarily against it. Maybe he has something to say or wants to plan a time to get together and work on the paper without being in the way for incoming students.

That theory is thrown out the door when he grabs onto my wrist to haul me forward at a much quicker pace than I’d been walking, nearly dragging me down the hall and then outside into the chilled fall air. He doesn’t let go until we’re further from the door, underneath a tree and almost out of sight from the sidewalk. Stopping suddenly, he releases my wrist and leans against the trunk, narrowing his eyes as he looks at me calculatingly. Suddenly I feel like I’m on display, like he can see straight through me. Ducking my head down, I kick at the semi-frozen ground, my shoe managing to dislodge a few chunks of dirt.

“Look, I don’t want things to be so fucking awkward between us, okay? So just stop doing…” He motions at me, a grandiose gesture that seems to encompass all of my body, “whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“Me!?” I ask incredulously, head snapping up to meet his intense gaze and crossing my arms in a defiant motion. “Why do you think the reason it’s awkward is because of _me!?”_

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his hands in his pockets and huffs out a heavy breath. “Because you’re looking at me with those big, sad puppy dog eyes and pouting without even realizing it and it fucking _kills_ me. Makes it really hard to keep the promise we made.”

“...oh.” Shit. Have I been doing that whenever I look at him? Am I doing that now? My hands come up to cover my face, just in case. The last thing I want to do is make this harder on him than it already is. I wouldn’t like it if our situations were reversed. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

The sound of fabric rubbing together is followed by a long-suffering sigh and I cringe internally; am I still making it worse? Ugh, why do I have to screw up so much!?

Then there’s a soft touch on my shoulder. “A little bit, yeah. Easy to be afraid that I’ll fuck shit up when I’m around you if all I wanna do is… you know, _kiss_ you again. It’s not like I ever had good self-control. But you’ve been avoiding me too, Yoosung.”

It’s not like I can deny that. “Yeah,” I admit in a whisper, slitting my fingers so I can peek through them. He’s got this little smile on his face, just the corners of his lips tilted up in what looks like a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Why does he have to be so cute? It’s not fair. “Kinda figured that you didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

He snorts, reaching out to bop me gently on the top of my head. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. One kiss won’t ruin our friendship unless we let it. Are _you_ gonna let it?”

“No, absolutely not.” Clearing my throat, I drop my hands and smile at him, relieved. It’s so nice to hear that. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders as the worry that I’d lost a friend fades away. “So what do you wanna do for this paper?”

“Hell if I know yet. Figured I’d let you do all the work and I’d just sit back and relax. Maybe pay you back later somehow. Sound cool with you?” Eyebrows raised, Saeran cocks his head to the side and watches me expectantly, face blank to the point that I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. He wasn’t like this when we did our last group project, but now that we’re on friendlier terms, is he going to try to use it against me? God, I don’t know. I don’t think he would, but…

“Uh, o-okay,” I finally stutter out, brows knitting together as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck awkwardly. “If that’s what you want, I guess…”

With a snicker and a gentle punch to my arm, Saeran shakes his head and throws his arm around my shoulders, dragging me back out from behind the tree. “Seriously? You thought I’d do that to you? Shit, I’d better work on showing you that I’m not that useless. Don’t want you thinking I’m just a slacker.”

“I knew you were joking!” It’s a fib, and one followed by an incredibly high-pitched giggle. He looks at me knowingly and I laugh again, a little more freely this time.

Back at the sidewalk, he drops his arm and shoves me away. “Get to your next class, nerd. Don’t wanna be late. Come over after school and we can figure shit out. Okay?”

With a nod, I wave goodbye and smile as he turns to saunter off as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Saeran Choi, the man who somehow manages to encompass everything I wish I was while still being the man I want to date. Both are impossible, but at least he can be in my life in some aspect. Friendship will be enough; it _has_ to be.

With that thought in mind, I turn and bolt back toward the building. There’s no way I’m not going to be late for my next class.

But it was totally worth it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a time-skip plus self-reflection. Depression is nasty.

The last few weeks of fall semester fly by, and the both of us manage to pass our psychology course with high marks. Neither of us elected to register for winter classes, but I was also sad to find out that we didn’t share any classes in the spring. From here on out it appears we won’t be crossing each other’s paths in school again as we go down the respective paths of our majors.

It’s not exactly as though veterinary science and art have much in common.

Winter break begins and we promise to see each other over the weeks off from school. I’ll be gone for half of it, at home with my parents - but that doesn’t mean I’m more than a train ride away from hanging out, should the urge strike either of us. Saeran seemed relieved when I told him that, though I couldn’t tell if it was at the distance being placed between us or the fact that I was never too far away. I’ve never been good at reading him but it’s become especially difficult with this barrier he’s erected between us, putting on his “Choi face” about everything. I know he cares about me, I’ve seen it multiple times and yet that does nothing to assuage the pain I feel when he sometimes acts aloof. It’s for the best, but… god, I wish it could be different.

He doesn’t reach out before I find myself standing on the platform at the train station, and I’m too scared to contact him. The last few times we did anything together he’d been slowly getting colder. Not like he was when he first came back, but definitely like he’s trying to make that wall thicker, maybe surround it with barbed wire. Like he’s trying to keep me out for good this time. Part of me knows I can’t allow it and that I need to fight back tooth and nail - bring proverbial wire clippers with me, if I must.

But another part of me is just tired. The past four months have taken an incredible toll on my energy supply - I’ve been falling asleep so much earlier than usual, unable to stay up even to play LOLOL. How many times have I woken up on the keyboard, or fully clothed on my bed when I plopped down for a second to look at my phone? My energy was already pretty low to begin with, although I made due as required.

Ever since Rika disappeared, I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with myself. Anytime I make progress, something happens to slide me back down again and I feel like this whole debacle with Saeran is what’s tripping me up this time. It’s not his fault; I place none of the blame on his end. It’s me, like it’s always me. I don’t know what either of the Choi twins saw in me to make them deem me worthy of their love, but I’m not. I’m just a disgusting, lazy excuse of a man who can’t even manage a friendship right.

Was it selfish of me to want to be around the both of them so much because they helped me feel alive? Instead of this ever-present numbness or the self-hatred that sweeps through my veins to remind me of how useless I am, I could experience brief respites of fun or even happiness in their presence. There wasn’t any reminder that I wasn’t good enough to save her, just distraction and the ability to pretend the only thing that existed was that apartment and the two men within it.

All I want to do is sleep. At my parent’s I spend most of my time in my room in bed. Sometimes I’m playing on my phone, sometimes I stare at our texts or his contact information but I never reach out. Saeran’s had a rough enough life. He really doesn’t need me in it to make it worse.

God. That’s all I ever do, isn’t it. Make things worse. Unknowingly encouraging Seven’s feelings toward me then falling for his twin. Straining their already tenuous relationship. Nearly flunking out of school because I lack the ability to care enough to do my homework and the anxiety that I’ll fail my tests drives me to ignore them in favor of diving into a world of fantasy. I probably drove Rika away, too. Her little needy, stupid cousin who couldn’t even handle himself without her around.

The weeks somehow manage to simultaneously crawl by while slipping away too soon. I have tonight and then tomorrow I’m headed back to my own apartment, back to the little space I’ve carved out for myself in this cruel world. Back to wallow in my misery, to go days only eating chips and laying in bed uninterrupted.

I still haven’t heard anything from Saeran. He hasn’t been active on his tripter or fakebook, either, so maybe he’s just been… preoccupied. Got lost in one of those artistic sprees or whatever happens to artists. Is that really a thing or just something romanticized in movies? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. He hasn’t contacted me and I’m not good enough to talk to him. I’m breaking my promise to Seven, I _know_ I am, but… They both deserve to meet better people. If I just fade into the background, then maybe… maybe they’ll stand a chance.

Waves of exhaustion begin to overcome me once more and I surrender to them whole-heartedly, uncaring as my phone begins to vibrate on the bed. It’s an unknown number. Not worth my time, and definitely not ranking above sleep.

It’s still ringing when I drift off completely.

 

* * *

  
[Static makes the voice hard to hear, and there’s someone else speaking faintly in the background]  
_“Hey Yooyoo, long time no talk. I was hoping to actually hear your voice but I guess that cute recording will have to do for now._

_Just giving as much of an update as I can - still not sure when I’ll be back. Everything was going smoothly but we hit a few bumps in the road and - what was that? No, no, put it over there. Anyway, there’s been so pushback so it’s gonna take longer than I wanted. Sorry I wasn’t around for Christmas.  
_

_There’s a present waiting for you at my apartment. I’m sure Saeran has it safely nestled by the couch by now, since the silly kid doesn’t want to put up a tree. Ah, he has to take all the fun out of everything~  
_

_Speaking of Saeran, though_ … [a long sigh, causing the static to raise in intensity for a moment]

_Listen. I… I know I left at a bad time. We should’ve talked more about things, but I ran away. It’s what I do, heh. I’m not sure if you know this, but Saeran has a thing for you. He’s been trying to hide it but ah, twinsense keeps me informed of my little bro’s deepest thoughts~!  
_

_I’ve seen the way you look at him. I know you like him, too. So listen, Yoosung. I don’t want you to end up… I dunno, holding back or something because of me. I want both of you to be happy. And if that’s together, then so be it. Haha, my brother and my best friend… who would’ve thought.  
_

_Please take care of him for me. I don’t want to lose him again._

[background voice is closer, the words garbled]

_Huh? What? Oh, shit, yeah, you’re right. I’ve gotta go. Hope you like your present and give Saeran a big hug from me! Bye Yoosungie~”_

[Click.]


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saeran drops one of his biggest secrets on Yoosung.

I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.

Honestly, it’s not somewhere I ever pictured myself for many reasons. My parents always stressed how dangerous bikes were and raised me in such a way that I feared the very idea of sitting on one, let alone wrapping my arms around someone and letting them take off into the sunset. I didn’t - still don’t - have interest in owning one myself and seeing as I always saw myself as having a girlfriend, I guess I just assumed it wasn’t ever going to be a blip on my radar.

I really should remember what people say about assuming things, because here I am, helmet on and head pressed between Saeran’s shoulder blades as I try to convince my stomach that it is, in fact, okay and that there’s no need to empty its contents on the side of the road. He’s not a bad driver nor is he taking any risks, it’s just an internal struggle between what I think is safe versus what is _actually_ happening. The wind brushing past me is loud but actually feels nice on the bits of my exposed skin, refreshing and exhilarating, in a way. The few times I manage to peek my eyes out to watch the scenery show that it’s even more beautiful than when in a car because I can see all of it instead of just a small snippet out the window.

Those peeks never last long because my stomach lurches almost immediately, a rebel to the end, it seems.

Still, if nothing else, the very fact that I’m sitting like this with him has butterflies fluttering around my stomach. He’d loaned me one of his extra leather jackets, insisting that it’s the best form of defense against the chill and brutal beating that can come from the wind. I can’t say that I regret taking him up on the offer, and I’d seen the way his eyes had darkened minutely when he’d seen me put it on.

The possibility of a relationship between us is closer, nearly visible on the horizon. I wasn’t the only one Seven left a voicemail for, and Saeran hadn’t been surprised when I showed up at his door the very night I arrived back from my parents. With the biggest hurdle (or so I’d thought) between us no longer an issue, I’d thrown my arms around him and kissed him on the spot, before he even managed to close the door. Finally, _finally_ I could be happy and free to show my love.

Alas, not everything is always so simple.

A sharp turn to the right with me making sure to lean with him takes us further up and away from what I know, onto a small paved road bordered by trees. The bike begins to slow down and I dare to lift my head, blinking to adjust to the bright light of the sun when we pass out of the shade and into a large clearing. In the middle stands a large two-story building, beige stucco walls a relatively welcoming sight. A sign in fancy handwriting declares it to be a luxury treatment site for all sorts of problems. Luxurious is definitely a good descriptor, the large snowy lawns of the place still somehow managing to look superior to those I’m used to. Another sign directs toward the pool in the back as well as the different fields for specific activities, half of them things I’ve only heard of in movies.

He’d told me he needed to show me something before he’d date me. That there was some secret hanging between us and that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t clear the air and give me a chance to make a truly informed decision. What awaits me here?

Saeran pulls up onto the stone driveway, riding over to a small parking area designated for ‘visitors only’ and parking without any fuss. He’s obviously been here before. Kicking down the stand, he kills the motor and pulls off his helmet, shaking his head to show off his new and incredibly attractive haircut. An undercut suits him far more than I’d ever considered it, somehow managing to draw attention to his eyes while revealing how many more piercings he’s managed to get in the short time since I’d seen him last.

“C’mon,” he grunts, swinging his leg over and tying his helmet on the bike, raising an eyebrow at me as I slide off and fumble with the snap of my own. I’m sure my hair looks less than pleasing once I manage to reveal it, my helmet taking a place next to his before he turns on his heel and starts literally stalking toward the building. Thankful the path up to the round archway at the front has somehow been kept pristine, it takes no time for me to catch up to him with zero (0) falls. Yeah, yeah, maybe that shouldn’t be a big deal but it’s fairly easy for me to slip in the winter. I’m not always the most graceful on my feet.

The closer we draw to the ornate wooden front door, the moodier Saeran becomes. It feels like I can see the storm clouds beginning to gather over his head, dark and dangerous. What the heck is in this place that could have such an effect on him? I can only guess it has something to do with his gang days, something he hasn’t even brought up once with me yet so… what is this about?

A small keypad sits to the right of the door and his fingers move swiftly over the buttons, inputting a code that causes the door to click and then open slowly for us. A feeling of dread begins to settle in my stomach even as we step into the most beautiful foyer I’ve ever seen. Shining maple floors, extravagantly carved staircases curving to connect with a small balcony that leads to the second floor, a high ceiling with a simple chandelier hanging from it. The walls are a soft cream color with a few paintings on them that depict scenes from beaches or forests; calm, tranquil, _breathtaking_. And yet despite all this, I can’t help but feel like I’ve stepped into the maw of a bloodthirsty wolf, just waiting to sink its razor sharp teeth into my skin and tear me to shreds.

A shiver runs through me and I pull Saeran’s jacket tighter around myself, glancing around with wide eyes. What is it about this place that’s spooking me so much?

There’s a small desk near the end of the room that Saeran makes a beeline toward. Following him closely but always just a step behind, I watch as he bends over to type something in a computer, clicking through window after window expertly. Right when I begin to wonder if he’s maybe hacking something, something drops into a clear plastic box just beneath the computer. A keycard. Pulling it out, Saeran shoves it into a pocket before closing out of whatever programs he has up and nodding in a jerky motion at me. “This way.”

Our footsteps sound loud in the quiet of the room, his much clearer than my shuffling ones. He heads to the stairway on the left and takes the stairs two at a time, never pausing, never looking back to make sure I’m still following. Nerves keep me from flying up the stairs at the same rate so instead I jog slowly up them, just fast enough to not let him pull too far ahead but still not catch up. They’re only a story but feel much longer, closer to attempting to climb up Mount Everest without a tank of oxygen. The moment my foot lands on the top I feel like I can’t breathe, like the air is too thin or perhaps nonexistent. Forced to pause, I squeeze my eyes closed and try to count to ten, to regulate my heartbeat and anxiety that’s flaring without any real stimuli to cause it. I have no idea what awaits behind those locked doors in front of us, but it seems like my body does, and it’s rebelling.

A pair of arms slip around my waist and pull me against a warm body, one hand coming up to tuck my face into the crook of a neck. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, just breathe. I know this place is fucking frightening but you’ll be fine. You’re safe, nothing is gonna happen to you.”

His scent is intoxicating, even in a place like this that smells like someone sprayed vanilla to try to cover the sterility of it all. Fingers gently run through my hair and scratch at my scalp while I focus on the movement of his chest, matching my breaths to his. Time slows to a standstill and for a moment I forget every worry I have about this place, simply letting Saeran’s heartbeat and warmth surround me.

When I finally feel strong enough to pull away it’s to see a pair of eyes filled with guilt and pity. Dropping my arms to my side, I avert my gaze quickly, unable to handle it. Why is he looking at me like that? Because of whatever I’m about to find behind that door?

There’s a pregnant pause before Saeran steps forward and inserts the keycard, waiting for the light to turn green and the door to click before pushing it open. Card slid back in his pocket, he waves me through into a long hallway, filled with doors and numbers that resemble apartments. And maybe they are, though obviously not the usual type.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be the same as my brother.”

I startle a bit at the sudden conversation, expecting more awkward silence. Instead Saeran meanders down the hallway, apparently in no rush as he continues speaking.

“Exactly the same. We were twins, after all. I didn’t like anything that made us different, even if was the tiniest thing. Imagine my irritation when he ended up getting glasses.”

A soft chuckle from both of us as he runs a hand through his hair, eyes distant and lost in memories. “That changed as we got older. I got tired of being mistaken for him, tired of being the twin that wasn’t as charismatic, or funny, or fun. So I changed. Found my own style. Bleached my hair. It worked; no one mixed us up anymore.”

“What I didn’t anticipate was the different way people would start treating me. I wasn’t a delinquent to start with, but apparently dressing in black with white hair and eyeliner automatically means I am because suddenly I had teachers down my throat about every little thing. I’d always been a good student, turned my homework in on time and kept my grades fairly high but once they started to treat me like shit, I stopped caring.”

“It wasn’t just the teachers, but the students too. They started to avoid me, to whisper. Soon I was confined to the edges of the student body, along with the other rejects. And we all came together slowly, none of us particularly bad but not necessarily good anymore, either. But that didn’t matter, not until one of them brought up the gang his cousin was in.”

This is so much more history than I’d ever heard from him before, more than I’d known about his past life. Why he is choosing to spill it now as we walk through this place, turning down a different hallway is a mystery… Soon enough I’ll know the answer, but that doesn’t make it feel any less ominous in the moment.

“Things just sorta snowballed after that. We poked around and before we knew it, most of us were _in_ the gang. That’s when the real trouble started. Destruction of property, smoking, drugs, alcohol. Stealing small things, some of the older members stealing larger, more important things. High school kids weren’t used for much more than ferrying drugs since most didn’t suspect us, but that didn’t mean we were any less involved in the nasty shit that went down.”

“The ranking in the gang went by how long you were in and your reputation. How good you did your job, essentially. I was really damn good at mine. I didn’t have the charisma my brother had naturally but I could emulate it. And that’s what I did, sold an assload of drugs to anyone I could. Between that and my willingness to do pretty much anything, they promoted me fast. Didn’t take long for me to be the one in control of getting the drugs and assigning them to those who delivered them.”

“Police were pretty good at picking up the lower members of us and also shutting down the groups we bought the drugs from, so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to have to sniff out a new provider. ‘Bout six months before we were busted, a new kind of drug began popping up all over Seoul. I’m sure you remember it; The Elixir of Salvation?”

Nodding slowly, I follow when he takes another turn that leads us toward what looks like an inside garden. Yeah, I remember all right. It was all over the news, a powerful drug that made people experience some strange mix of euphoria/pain all while making them much more susceptible to suggestion. It was a cocktail of different things and an old friend of mine had ended up as one of the many dead from it. Simply put, it was dangerous and there was a huge push to bring the manufacturer of it down.

“Well. Didn’t take me long to find out who it was who sold it. Was a surprise when I ended up finding out the mastermind behind it was someone I knew, someone from my childhood that I’d all but forgotten about. Sweet words were spoken and promises were made; promises that later were broken when someone on their end betrayed everyone involved to the police. Never guess who it was that snitched.” He cast a look over his shoulder at me, face blank but eyebrows raised. When I shrug, confused as to why I’d have any idea, he snickers, face darkening. “None other than your old friend - and my step-in father - V.”

“Wha-!?” I stumble over my feet in surprise, catching myself with a hand against the wall. V? How was… how was Rika’s old boyfriend involved in all of this???

“Guess he’d decided that he’d been an accomplice to enough. My boss found out shit was going down and ordered me to go take out the head of Magenta as revenge, a final act to declare our dominance before our downfall, but when I came face to face with her, I couldn’t do. Couldn’t pull the trigger. That same weakness is what kept me outta prison and instead landed me in rehab. Well, that and copious amounts of money.”

Grabbing onto the metal handle, Saeran swings open the door to reveal a botanical wonder - high, arched ceilings in a room filled with lush greenery, trees and flowers everywhere - and walks in without pausing. Mind whirling, I shuffle after him. Is that who we’re here to see, then? This… this leader of Magenta, or whatever?

Does he think this story, this past of his is going to influence how I feel about him? “That’s not weakness,” I finally manage to eke out, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “That’s your conscience. It’s good. _You’re_ good.”

“Not good enough.” He halts suddenly, head bowed to the ground as he shrugs my hand off his shoulder. “If I’d been good enough, I would’ve told you about this a long time ago instead of joining in the lie you’ve been living.”

I’m about to respond when another voice, soft and feminine, speaks up. “Yoosung?”

That… no. It can’t be. Swinging my head in the direction of it, my eyes go inexplicably wide as a halo of blonde hair approaches me. It… this… what?

“Rika!?”


	16. Chapter 16

Maybe it was cowardly of me to run away that day, to call my mom to come and get me when I couldn’t take it anymore. Rika had chattered at me for a while, sounding so similar to her old self but less bright, less… inspiring. Whatever treatment they’re doing for her there must be the big reason she was able to converse with me like it was old times, inquiring about my life and how everything was going. It was hard, pretending as though nothing was wrong about the situation when, in fact, _everything_ was wrong. Her being there, the years of no contact...no one telling me…

The way Saeran had looked at her with a mixture of awe and fear.

My cousin, the drug dealer. Apparently the woman who had created a little ‘paradise’ for those who worked for her, keeping them dosed up on EoS instead of paying them. If not for the fact that my aunt and uncle are rich I’d wonder why her name hadn’t been all over the town. No doubt they didn’t want her tarnishing their reputation.

But it was just too much for me to handle. The knowledge that Saeran had almost killed her, what she had done, that V had _helped_ before turning them all in. That he had lied to me.

All of them had. Not a single person had thought it worth telling me the truth. Not even my best friend.

Saeran’s eyes when I bolted had been filled with a resignation and despair that only made my response more desperate. I couldn’t look at him, at _them_ any longer. My world had just come crashing down on me, making me question everything else about my life. I had spent so long mourning the loss of my cousin, the one who had helped me learn to be kind, less selfish. And yet there she was, brightness dulled. She’s sick, I understand that. But it didn’t make it sting any less.

When my mom had arrived it was to find me pacing outside, tears streaming down my face as I asked her to just take me home. She did so without question, without prying to try to find out what had happened. It was a good few days spent refusing to come out of my room except for meals before I brought up Rika to her.

It was a mAJ or relief to find out that neither of my parents had known about her situation, either. At least there were two people who continued to be truthful to me.

I spent the rest of January there, letting them drag me back into a familiar routine that had dictated most of my childhood. They scheduled some extra therapy appointments for me and this time I ended up on antidepressants. I was resistant at first, but eventually gave in because I couldn’t deny they were probably needed.

When February comes I make the decision to stick around longer. I’m starting to feel a little better, whether from the meds or distraction, who knows. I dread the possibility of going back to my school apartment and being alone; my thoughts are my own worst enemy. It’s easy to ignore them when mundane day-to-day activities are what occupy most of my time, but once I’m back, it’ll just be school and LOLOL… and neither are enough to distract me for long. With few friends to turn to and the one I want to see the most also the same one I’m trying to avoid, there isn’t much for me to do there.

Maybe I won’t go back until semester begins.

Maybe I won’t go back at all.

Saeran doesn’t deserve this, but I can’t bring myself to speak to him right now. He is the only person who knew that felt I deserved the knowledge that Rika… that she… That she’s still alive and that she wasn’t who I thought she was. I can understand him choosing to hide it because it’s a deep connection to a past he doesn’t want to remember, and I definitely respect him for telling me before letting me throw myself at him. Or starting a relationship with me.

It shows he cares enough to want me to have all of the cards in my hand before calling a play.

Valentine’s Day arivers without fanfare, the morning of just another dull start where I get up and start mindlessly doing some household chores. It doesn’t even occur to me what day it is until I see a bouquet of flowers on the table, beautiful and cheerful in the small kitchen. Ah. Of course dad bought some for my mom; he’s always been very on top of making sure she knows she’s loved and appreciated.

I step a little closer, curious. It’s always been a dream of mine to send flowers to someone I love, especially on Valentine’s Day. I’m not incredibly versed in flower species but I’m able to recognize the white tulips, lavender roses and purple… lilies? No, that doesn’t seem right. Carefully turning the vase it must’ve come in, I search for something, anything that would shed some light on the third flower. No such luck.

It has a lovely fragrance, though. A wistful smile stretches over my lips as I rub one of the soft petals between my fingers. Some day. Someday I can be the one to put a smile on someone’s face by a simple act like this.

“Ah! I see you found the flowers.”

A voice from behind me makes me jump in surprise and I whip around to see my dad approaching the coffee maker, one eyebrow quirked. “Uh… yeah. They’re beautiful,” I answer as he sets his cup under the spout and opens the top, inserting a small, dark red container before shutting it once more and pushing a button. There’s a quiet mechanical noise and then liquid begins to pour into the mug. Satisfied, he turns back to me with a smile.

“Aren’t they. Much more creative than just the traditional dozen of red roses, I have to say. Kudos for that.”

What an odd thing to say. I flick my gaze back to the bouquet, brows furrowed in contemplation. Is he complimenting the florist? When I look at him again, he’s making his way over to me. “Kudos…? What do you mean? Didn’t you get these for mom?”

His sudden laughter startles me, my hand bracing against the table when he stops in front of me. “You obviously didn’t notice the card that went with it.” He gestures toward a small, plain white envelope sitting nearby on the table. A single name is written on the front in spiraled handwriting: _Yoosung._

Heart racing, I reach out and draw it closer to me, barely able to believe what I see. For me…?

“You know, I asked your mother and we don’t recall you mentioning anyone special in your life. There was a brief moment when we thought maybe they came from…” A hesitant pause before he continues, “Rika, so we checked out if the flowers meant anything that would indicate that. We didn’t want to open the envelope in case it was from someone else.”

“And? What did you find out?” Finally picking up the envelope, I turn it over, toying with the sealed flap in the back. I want to open it. I know it’s not from Rika, and I also know the sender never does anything without there being a specific intent behind it. Those flowers were chosen for a reason.

“Well, the lavender roses typically stand for love at first sight, so after that one we were pretty sure it couldn’t be her. White tulips are an apology, and purple irises are devotion. So, son,” he says kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder and drawing my wide-eyed stare as I attempt to process what this means, “who’s the special lady?”

“It’s not, there’s no…” Pause. Breathe. Calm down. Slipping my pinky under the open portion of the flap, I slowly open it, cherishing the sound of the paper popping apart. “It isn’t like that, dad. There’s no girl.” A simple card is enclosed, likely whatever they had in stock. _Have a happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Saeran._

The hand on my shoulder disappears. “Ah.” His voice sounds heavy, almost like he’s disappointed. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll let your mother know so she doesn’t bo-“

“No!” The word echoes around the room far too loudly and we both cringe. Casting an apologetic look at him, I turn back to the flowers and gaze at them anew. Those particular meanings from Saeran… I need to see him. Now. “No, dad. I don’t have a girlfriend. But maybe, if I hurry…” Spinning around with a goofy grin on my face, I offer him the card. “I might be able to have a boyfriend!”

He takes the card in surprise, reading it over once then meeting my gaze skeptically. “A boyfriend, huh.” Glancing back down at it once more, he shrugs and smiles. “Well, if that’s what you want, go get him. You know where we are.”

-oOo-

It’s nearly 2am by the time I step out of the cab at the bottom of the apartment building. Much too late to be making a typical house call, but then again… this is hardly typical. Not a single ounce of it is typical. Not the reason I’ve been gone so long, not the reason I jumped on the first train I could, not the reason I’m standing here right now.

...okay, so maybe some of it isn’t extraordinarily special, but let me have my dramatics.

Rain pours steadily down as I rush toward the door, hoping not to get too wet before getting inside. With a bag slung over my shoulder, I step carefully to avoid puddles, breathing in relief as I reach the door. Still, I can feel the slight slosh from having wet shoes as I make my way to the elevator, refusing to stop until I have pressed the button to take me up to Saeran’s floor.

Stupid rain. Before leaving the station I’d done my best to make sure I looked extra cute but in the 20 minute drive the heavens had decided to open up and pour down their curse on me, flattening my hair to my head to make me look like a drenched dog. I didn’t even bring a jacket today; my shirt is now adhered to my chest and my jeans soaked. Hopefully he’s not disgusted by wet chic, since it’s literally the only style I’ve got right now.

Nerves flare as each floor ticks by. What if he hadn’t intended for me to come? Maybe he had sent them strictly as an apology and my dad was wrong on the meanings. He’s not infallible, after all, and Saeran could’ve just asked for a nice-looking bouquet that would let someone know he’s sorry. Choosing to send it on Valentine’s Day could very well prompt the addition of flowers that mean love, if the florist were to get carried away.

What would I do if that’s all it was? Maybe he did like me at one time, but no longer does? Just the thought of it feels like a lance through my heart and I clutch my chest at the pain. Okay, no, stop it. I won’t know until I face him and there’s no point in getting worked up about it now.

_Ding!_

As soon as the doors slide apart I’m in the hallway, jogging down to an all too familiar door with a literal box taped over the security box. The sight brings an amused smile to my face; seems turning off the system wasn’t enough for Saeran. He needed to _hide_ the box of doom, too. Cute.

I lift my hand and take a breath, ready to knock. Before my knuckles have a chance to rap against the door it opens and Saeran’s got a hand around my waist, pulling me inside. Then my back is pressed up against the cold wood as it closes, a warm mouth on mine before the latch even clicks shut.

It’s clumsier than I remember but maybe that’s because I’ve romanticized our past kisses. Or it could be from the desperation and relief that feels as though it’s eking out of his pores like a pipe that’s sprung a leak, his hands grasping my hips so tightly that it feels like he might leave bruises. The door is so cold pressing against me through wet clothes but I’m willing to endure the discomfort for the man holding onto me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, who’s kissing me with a wild abandon that’s incredibly sexy. Our teeth clack a few times before his tongue slips into my mouth, searching out my own with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. Fingers dig harder into my skin as my bag falls to the ground, allowing my arms to slide around him.

“I thought I’d lost you because of my own fucking stupidity,” he murmurs when he pauses to gulp in some breaths. “Gone for months without a word… god. Figured I’d ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.” Then his lips are back on mine again, still desperate but calmer than moments earlier. I shiver as his hands begin to move, fingers dancing across the skin beneath my shirt and then over it, up to my arms and face. It feels light, exploring, maybe like he’s trying to convince himself that I’m really here.

I can relate.

The next pause is my doing. “Sorry, just n-needed time to process.” His eyes are so pretty this close, that odd mint shade that suits him so well. But there’s something more in them tonight, a sort of vulnerability I’ve never seen in them before. “It was… _is_ … a lot to take in. But those flowers…”

“They brought you back.” Dropping one more kiss on my lips, Saeran buries his nose into my neck and releases what sounds like a strangled sob. Arms encircle my chest and hold me tightly as warm breath washes against my skin. “Back to me. You didn’t leave, you came back…”

“I just went to see my parents. I’ll always come back.” I’m not entirely certain what exactly is going on in his mind, so I just hold him, letting him shiver against me as more sobs occasionally break free. Eventually he sighs and presses a few gentle kisses to my neck, dropping his arms and stepping back.

“You’re soaked.” Wrinkling his nose, he eyes me a moment before glancing at his own clothes. “...and now so am I. Great.”

There’s the unsettling feeling of my shirt attempting to stick to the door when I stand, and I reach around to tug it completely loose, chuckling. “Well, it _is_ raining outside and it’s not like you gave me much of a chance to warn you.”

“Hmm, no. Guess this is my fault.” Shrugging, Saeran reaches down and pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. The look he gives me is entirely too amused when he notices my face heating up as he slides his thumbs into the waistband of his pj pants. “What? If I remember right, best way to prevent hypothermia is to strip the wet clothes and cuddle, yeah?” Tugging them down, he snickers at my nod. God, he’s hot. And standing in front of me in nothing but boxers.

“Your turn,” he whispers, stepping closer and beginning to lift up my shirt. Raising my arms, I can feel the rapid thumping of my heart in disbelief and excitement. Next he’s fiddling with the button on my jeans, dropping wet kisses to my stomach. “It’s okay, cutie. Just cuddling to warm you up tonight, I promise.” A glint of mischief appears in his eyes as he pushing them down, kisses dropping down to just above the top of my boxers. “No guarantees about tomorrow, though…”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow that I will spend with Saeran. And the day after that. Cuddling under blankets, watching movies, playing games, whatever.

It’s real. After all this time, after everything that’s happened…

“Are you my boyfriend now?” _God, why!?_ Horrified, I clamp a hand over my mouth but all he does is look up at me in surprise from where he’s kneeled, untying my shoes. “S-sorry. Never mind. That was dumb.”

A low laugh rumbles through him as he finishes the last shoe, pulling it off and setting it to the side with my socks and jeans. Then he stands, the soft touch of his hand guiding me in close. “If that’s what you want me to be, then yes.”

I’m not sure a kiss has ever tasted so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following along with me on this journey! Hope you enjoyed it~

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as [cutiesaeran](http://cutiesaeran.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@MysticHawke](https://twitter.com/MysticHawke/)!


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